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/ By ComeOnPetunia [+Watch]

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  1. [Allowed] SincerelyLily


If Anything from this thread is reused. I, will cyberly mutilate you.

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❛ there are not enough words to express my love for you Lauren. you drive me crazy, but there's no one else i'd rather call my own


lily. 24. i roleplay males. 1x1s.

s t a t u s: profile u/c


to post: until the end of time ⋄ something like forever ⋄ wrapped in silk ⋄ bulletproof ⋄ shot of love ⋄ silver lining ⋄ all falls down ⋄ like lightning ⋄ wrapped in silk ⋄ opposites attract ⋄ the space between the trees

  SincerelyLily / 196d 8h 54m 36s
[center [b [#FFA500 open]]]
[left [pic https://i.imgur.com/SoyZJnL.png]] [right [pic https://i.imgur.com/SoyZJnL.png]] [center [pic https://i.imgur.com/EYIWLCR.png]]
[font courier [center [size33 [font "century gothic" [b 「yours and mine」]]]]]
[center [pic https://i.imgur.com/TVXhlJy.png?1]]
[center [size11 [b she] doesn't remember much about her mother, who died when she was younger
leaving her to be raised by her aunt and her cousin, rose
her aunt always treated her like she was her daughter, but her
and her cousin never seemed to get along
[b still] her childhood was the best she could ask for
growing up into a beautiful and kind young woman
[b life] in Sherman Oaks was great : a beautiful small community
surrounded by what is known as ‘big sur’ a beautiful and large lake
[b life] as a twenty-six-year-old is going just as well as she expected
she decided to stay home after community college and helped to run the family store
[b while] rose had decided to venture off to univeristy with the hopes to bag
a handsome and rich lawyer husband; earning a scholarship to the
most prestigious uni in the town; as always, she got what she wanted
[b there] are two communities in Sherman Oaks, separated by the lake
there’s the working-class side and then the wealthier side
[b her cousin] managed to become engaged to Andrew Kent, the oldest son
of one of the richest families in Sherman Oaks
[b the] wedding was in three months and would be conducted in her aunt’s backyard
[b three] months is a long time to spend with people who couldn’t be more than different
[b she] is finds herself falling for the youngest Kent boy
who seems to have a lot in common with her
but what she also comes to discover alongside love is everything is not what it seems
[b her] perfect cousin has her share of secrets
[b will] rose end up walking down the aisle? or will they end up planning a funeral?]]
[center [pic https://i.imgur.com/6cdlZ34.png]]
[font courier [center [size18 [font "century gothic" [b 「the rules」]]]]]
[center [pic https://i.imgur.com/TVXhlJy.png?1]]
[center [size11 -okay, so this is a [b drama/romance] story. im playing the males, plus rose, but if you wanna double that works too
-I kind of have an idea of why rose and your character don’t like one another
which plays into the secrets, but feel free to put in your own ideas
I really appreciate communicating on the plot and world building
Please [I please] be someone who is good with actually adding to the plot

osting is at least once a day or twice a week

-real pictures
-mature theme; violence, cursing, romance
-doesnt matter how much you write, just give me [i something] to work with and please dont write more than you have to
[b [center pm if interested x]]]
[center [b [#800020 [u PLEASE DO NOT REQUEST UNLESS ACCEPTED]]]]
  SincerelyLily / 209d 13h 33m 3s
such a fucking
selfish
insecure
bitch
  SincerelyLily / 160d 12h 8m 13s
yes yes ~ I think iris definitely felt something for dante but ultimately she is a vampire
her alliance would always be with her kind and especially xavier

which could also be why he has kept jenny alive and yet wants jenny dead - he needs her blood, but if she can rally the wolves - theres a slight chance she can harbor iris' power to control the vampires as well

maybe her controlling starts to seep out - like xavier she can also plant ideas ... moments etc. in ones mind?
  SincerelyLily / 210d 17h 42m 1s
So maybe iris did fall for Xavier
However she was in love with a werewolf - thereby why she was having his child
She thought Xavier didn’t know but he did and was hurt by it
Which is why he set war on the wolves

Now iris managed to get her hybrid child to safety but of course iris was killed during the war

Which is why Xavier hates the wolves and hates himself

He wants Jenny as a bride because she had the ability to still control the wolves as she is a part of them ? Like maybe she had some kind of hypnotic” power or something that she hasn’t tapped into

Anyhoo based on what iris said in your post - I’m assuming the wolves took her and buried her as she technically was their saving grace
Which is why she’s able to roam freely since most vamps are dismembered and burned x x
  SincerelyLily / 212d 13h 6m 5s
[http://rp.eliteskills.com/u.php?u=4897 [right [pic https://i.imgur.com/wAEnSrm.jpg?1]]]
[tab]
[tab]
[center [size16 [font "Edwardian script" [b ❛] [i You light up my world as well as my entire universe.] [b ❜]]]]
[tab]
[center [b [size15 _______. . ._______]]]
[tab]
[center [size15 [font "century gothic" MK
[center 31.
[center IG Model.
[center Bisexual.
[center [b LM ♡ 10.2019]]]]]
[tab]
[center [b [size20 _______. . ._______]]]
[center [size16 [font "Edwardian script" [b ❛] [i I love you with every fibre of my being.] [b ❜]]]]
  SincerelyLily / 213d 4h 34m 55s


there are not enough words to express my love for you Lauren. you drive me crazy, but there's no one else i'd rather call my own



status: lunch time; posting after;

lily. 24. i roleplay males. 1x1s. group threads occasionally.


total threads: 3/12

click here to see my upcoming threads.

at this time all booked for rps ;-;<3

  SincerelyLily / 219d 12h 18m 37s
Tristan wanted to marry Danielle that much was true, but would she believe him, and certainly could she say yes to such a suggestion if she found out that he had slept with Ava? It was hard to say. Ava loved him and Danielle loved him too. He believed that Danielle would get over this but she would certainly not let him out of his sight or around Ava ever again. He had to tell her, and the guilt was going to eat him up completely.

“Where exactly are you looking into?” He asked her then as he got out of bed and of course she was surprised to find that he was entertaining the conversation. Tristan had always seemed to shy away from the topic, only engaging in the conversation to appease Danielle before changing the topic completely. Danielle was gathering things to take a shower and Tristan did the same as the morning session had made him a bit late for work. The grin on her face and sparkle in her eye made his heart skip a beat.

“Bali!” She said as she walked over and wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed him then. “You better not propose to me right now in the middle of this bedroom.” She joked as she poked his chest. She was being playful, though Tristan knew that the type of girl Danielle was, she wanted the best of the best when it came to her proposal. Tristan was making decent money, but with school and the bar he wasn’t making a lot. He needed a big break or he would have to take Danielle up on her offer to work for her father. But he had no intention of becoming another suit.

Not wanting to part and maybe to make up for what he did, he and Danielle shared a shower together. Once more making love. All dried off and dressed, they went their sperate ways, as usual meeting with one another during an hour break of the day for lunch. Soon his day at class ended and he headed for work then. He hadn’t texted Ava all day, trying to avoid her or maybe avoid what he had done. Though he couldn’t avoid it for long, as he walked into work knowing they would have to work another shift together.

------

Dimitri followed behind Emily, watching as she picked up different pieces, his mind wandering to the many of times she would wear them and him undress her. She eventually was satisfied with her collection, him taking a seat in one of the private areas to watch her change. Of course, with their fame, it was best to have as much privacy as possible and the kind of man that he was, he didn’t want anyone seeing his fiancé in that manner. Dimitri didn’t care about the roles she played and the men she slept with during those roles, but these moments – intimate moments when she was just [I Emily], those moments mattered most to him.
He waited patiently for her to try on each garment, continuously growing more and more excited with each one she tried on.
“They all look great,” he mentioned to her with a smile. He stood up then and walked toward Emily, dressed in a white lingerie set, one that would look great on the night of their honeymoon and even better lying on the floor of a hotel room. He wanted them to go on an island, lots of sun and watching his wife strut around nude and happy – just the two of them.
Dimitri made sure their door was closed, his hands drawing her in and his hands running over her ass. “I think we have some time,” he said to her with a kiss, lips tracing against her neck. He peeled down her underwear then. “You know what happens when I see you like this.” He moaned against her neck then. “Or should we get back to the hotel?” He suggested as he pulled away from her then. He looked at Emily. Soon she would be his wife. The thought was incredibly amazing to think about.
  jack / SincerelyLily / 219d 10h 51m 15s
[b plot stuff + profile]


✥ lily. 24. amateur at everything✥

{status: off and available to post }

Lauren ily

PST Time Zone

'ello. back on this site after a mild hiatus. always looking for a roleplay, dont be afraid to pop in my dms and request one or just to say hello


I roleplay mostly male roles. I thrive in private threads. though am willing to give group threads a try


active roleplays: 11

roleplays to post in: 0

roleplays in the making: 1?


-----
[b EVER PLOT]

Maybe placing them in a place of danger, like a war or something, where they would meet and get to know eachother, and the girl only finding out about the immortal/invulnerable thing when the guy gets shot and doesnt get hurt or die, and he is able to play it off to his fellow soldiers that he didn't actually get hit but the girl was right there and she saw him get hit.
then eventually bringing them out of that place and into the more calm setting where they would have to deal with flashbacks from the war. I don't know I'm kinda just riffing

im assuming this all happens when they are obviosuly off base since it wouldnt make sense for her to see him get shot unless shes a soldier or like a nurse?
or else she wouldnt really be on the battlefield im assuming

maybe hes involved in a confrontation or theres a raid if he like off base
that way she sees
-
[b SILVER LINING PLOT]
Roslyn tried to keep it together for final trial
Damien jumps the gun and tells what Justin is going
Maybe justin gives Daniel a hit shot and he ends up relapsing so he’s not believable

Michael is out behind behind bars but now Roslyn and Damien are battling Justin

--
Yes i think Justin is successful in his attempt
And gives a hot* shot lol and then when the internal investigation happens he’s too high to be believable

But it’s up to your character to pursue

And maybe he gets another month but Roslyn can leave cause Justin pressures her
-
[b SLF PLOT]

After this interrogation Joshua is kind of freaking out about Quinn as he doesn’t want her to go through the hassle of this
He says it’s best they take a break
Maybe then he shows up at the school after a weekend of fighting
He looks sketchy and someone calls your dad since they know him very well and also cause he’s a cop
He finds out about you two dating and tho Joshua is apologetic her dad swears to keep them apart
And then Quinn is kidnapped - but by who I’m not sure lol

Hoh boy lol i like it
I think it would really make things real for Joshua
Like starting a family would more than likely get him more out of the gang life

I think he might eventually snitch
I’m thinking francisco isn’t as loyal and actually has been setting Joshua up especially after he realized quinn was the daughter of a cop
Oooh a cool crossover is that they go into witness protection

Excellent :)

So I’m thinking Joshua fake recents
The police say they have suspect in custody to throw off Francisco
Maybe they rough Quinn up a bit but she is returned as promised

The case is becoming big big news like a whole o.j. spectacle
Francisco is arrested but let out on bond
The case begins in a week but Joshua doesn’t need to testify for like a month

In that month they are placed in a witness protection program
Which Joshua hates ?

that’ll give us more to post for
Probably some bickering between the two
Maybe one or two attempts on their life
-
[b SHOT OF LOVE PLOT]
Hmm well i think he can still marry her

I think maybe we go around this route:

-assassination attempt stops
-Andrew returns and Amelia tries to break engagement off which he doesn’t accept
-he talks to your parents and both Amelia and Valentin admit time their relationship
-Valentin is fired and goes off for another job
-your parents insist you marry Andrew Especially once evident that you are pregnant
-Andrew and you marry to cover things up and you become queen once your father dies
-Valentin hears of the passing of your father and also sees in the news you’re pregnant and comes to see you as he has suspicions

Maybe Valentin figures out that Andrew is behind the murders but has no true proof
And Andrew discovers the affair between him and Valentina and tells her parents before her so that they send Valentin away and his secret is safe

He pretends to be sweet and a gentlemen and agrees to marry her even tho she’s not a virgin because he decides then its best to just kill the king
-
[b OPPOSITES PLOT]
-talk show that night
-maybe time skip
-one of them probably end up getting a movie so strain on the relationship as far as traveling and being apart
-wedding maybe they get approached for a tv wedding special? So the public sees arguments
-Gwen probably doesn’t want Emily around their daughter so that can lead to a fight and tension with visitation rights


emily sex tape scandal makes them distant
-
[b BULLETPROOF PLOT]
-Arguing as Dom gets closer to therapist
-him and therapist share a few kisses
-this causes rift between val and Dom - they separate
-Dom seeks comfort with therapist and they start dating
-val dates Henry and is going through pregnancy
-Dominic and them bump into each other maybe at the restaurant and Dominic of course is sad to see Henry and her and the baby - also of course seeing her again after so long renews feelings
-maybe Henry pressures val into a divorce so they can start a proper family especially since it’s nearly been a year and he wants to assure she’s finally his
-she goes to return the ring and the two end up having sex To which Dominic admits he doesn’t want a divorce
  SincerelyLily / 220d 9h 41m 15s
[B POST JUNKYARD]

Valentin had awoke that morning with a bad headache, knowing it was his fault he was hungover since he had went a little too hard the previous night at his birthday dinner. Now twenty-seven, he was finding it hard to keep up with the young crowds and the whole party scene. Of course, that didn’t stop him from bedding women that weren’t his age. He looked over at the red head that occupied the right side of the king sized bed. The white sheets wrapped tight around her, a satisfied smile on her lips. He didn’t choose to wake her, figuring upon her waking up, his absence would be a clue and of course his maid Adeline would be there to assist her with anything she would need.
He turned his legs over, feet placed against dark wooden floors as he rolled his neck. He finally came to a stand then, over six feet tall and an athletic figure, thanks to the years of dancing. He’d started dancing ballet when he was six, an unusual hobby that turned a few heads from his family members and especially his father. It didn’t help when the male had come out in highschool as bisexual. Though, now with the level of fame and wealth he had acquired after working consistently, Valentin had managed to earn acceptance. He had walked the expanse of the large bedroom and into the bathroom, bright white lights illuminating the stark clean room. He ran his hands through his hair, messy from sleep. Valentin turned on the water of the walk in shower, stepping in to wash away the night’s adventures. He’d gotten out then, drying off and commencing his morning routine: brushing his teeth, washing his face, and of course morning stretches. When he exited the bathroom he still found the woman asleep, which was not unusual as they had quite a bit of fun in the bed the minute they had stumbled into his room. He had changed into something casual, a pair of black pants, dress shoes, and a black button up. Styling his hair, he moved through the house then, his staff already up and making him breakfast. He drank the tea, letting Adeline know that the woman was there in his room and would need a car more than likely to take her home.
He’d finished his breakfast then and headed toward the elevator which would take him down to the parking garage. Slipping into silver Maserati, he adjusted his hair again before he began out, driving through the city toward the studio. Today was the first day of dress rehearsal for the most anticipated ballet of the year. It was also the day of the announcement about Victoria going into retirement, replaced by a younger dancer. This was bound to be an interesting day.
______________
[I This is starting to get old], Dimitri thought to himself. He was being shaken down, for the second time this week, by a man he [I may . . . okay absolutely] borrowed money from. Well more liked owed, seeing as he'd half a bag of product on him that hadn't been sold, the other half flushed out of his system this morning in his toilet. Dark brown eyes stared up at the tall lanky figure before him. The man's eyes burned red, hot like fire and most likely from a recent feeding.
"How many more chances am I to give you Dimitri? Hm?," the man inquired, his tongue so keen to end on the 's'. The consonant slithered past Dimitri's ear, a sound that made him shiver. He knew Viktor was not keen to second chances and already had given Dimitri three. Had it not been the fact Dimitri's mother was one of the few members of the Order organization, he was sure he would've already been split into two. His pale body taking up space in the dark alley behind the bar.
"Viktor," he breathed out, a short and pensive chuckle falling off his lips with the hope to ease the tension. "You know, you know I'm good for it. I just got a little . . . off base." Off base, he made sure not to snort at the remark he'd made as his hand languidly plaid with the long thick strands of curling dark hair. He'd spent a good chunk of the money on what most of his age and stature did: booze, girls, and drugs. Ah yes and of course the nasty gambling habit he had. "Trust me, I'll have it all in full tomorrow night. I'm heading downtown now, easy targets." He stood a little taller, no longer leaning against the sleek black car, probably the one thing in his life he actually bothered to care for. Though standing a strong six foot, he still barely managed to reach the chin of Viktor, who at that moment looked as if he were debating on sinking his fangs into Dimitri's neck on the spot. That was a fight he was unsure he'd be able to win in his state; not only was he hungover but hadn't had a proper feeding in hours. Human food sustained him fine, but there was nothing like the power of blood. All of that energy igniting inside him made him shiver at the thought.
Viktor smiled, tossing a loose strand of the straight platinum blonde locks from his face. His fangs gleamed, sharp and big, they looked wild - primal and contrasted the small ones Dimitri had been endowed with at birth. "My dear Dimitri, had I not personally known your mother" - he paused and looked at Dimitri, basking in the grimace just at the sound of his mother's name, "I would be more inclined as to not believe you. Alas, you are in luck. Third time is the charm." He stepped away, no longer dangerously encroaching Dimitri's space. "But do please remember, soon that name of yours will be nothing. There aren't many people like me who still bother to have some sort of respect for Adeline. Midnight, tomorrow, and don't make me wait."
Viktor was gone in a flash, a streak of gold barely lighting up the alley, illuminating the sleeping homeless man and the rats that crawled over and around him. It soon became clear to Dimitri who Viktor had fed on in the shadowed corner before stopping Dimitri from getting into his car. He heaved out a great sigh, glad to know he had escaped a pretty crucial beating. He knew when to pick his battles and maybe it was because the liquor had started to wear off, while sometimes reckless with his smart mouth, Dimitri could tell he wouldn't have been able to beat Viktor. Shrugging into the car with little effort, he pulled out of the alley. His throat itched with desire, his heart beating - he needed to feed. He needed money. He knew exactly where he was heading.
[center [b _]]
Dimitri felt better in Catalina at night, comfortable with his presence as he drove down busy streets. During the day hybrids like him liked to hide in their homes, some too afraid and unable to control the side of them that thirsted only for human blood. Weaklings, fledglings that never successfully managed to change, void of any thought. Not to say there were as many half-blood vampyres as pureblood. It had always been frowned upon in their society. Humans, while to some degree were to live amongst, that wasn't to say they were above to being food.
Finally making an all too familiar turn off the freeway, Dimitri began into the world of the Lost. The who's who of vampyres and even the scoundrels could be found here. The streets rattled with the sounds of music playing loudly from bars and clubs, pale and flashy dressed bodies lining the streets.
While it was hard for someone like him to get by without an issue down here, he knew it was the prime spot to target people. Easy selling, smug purebloods who didn't mind spending a little too much on so little. After parking, he walked toward the Prime, an exclusive club he'd been thrown out of plenty of times. But, Minx, an old pal still had a thing for him after countless hookups. He could see her working the bar through the crowd of people, dancing to high pitched music, unaffected by the bright lights that inconsistently strobed along. Pushing his sleeves up, he headed there first. A drink - a drink and then to work. Obviously tonight was a younger crowd night, even better, but in the corner he could peek the black door. A room for no riff raff, still lots of fun, but unofficially for purebloods only.
----------------
Harley ran his hand through his hair, thick black strands that were in need of a cut soon. He was waiting at the bus stop for his sister to pick him up. Three years, it'd been three years since he was a free man. It'd been six months since he last saw his sister, they'd had a fight when he last visited him.
[I I don't want you to see me like this anymore Olive,] he remembered telling her through the screen, his hand gripping the scratched black phone tightly. His free hand pinching the bridge of his nose, aggravating the stitches along his knuckles. He'd gotten into a fight a couple of weeks earlier. He was lucky they'd not added any time to his sentence, only after he'd stressed he'd just happened to get caught up in the fight. He hadn't started it, which was a partial lie. Olive, a nickname he'd gave the young female due to the wide green eyes she had, had begged him to stop talking. Eventually he'd manage to get her to acquiesce, promising he'd call more than once a week to make up for it. It was funny some, how much he depended on the younger female. She was six years younger than the twenty-eight year old male, and somehow had manage to get his life together.
Harley admittedly did everything in his best ability to make sure the female was on the right track. He made sure she kept her head in books, focusing on college and not the men in her school. He could recall the many times he'd intimidated a couple of the men that looked her way and still had the audacity to ask her out. Who was he kidding though? The woman was beautiful, she resembled so much of their mother. The short strands of dark brown hair, wide eyes full of innocence. It was a wonder the woman still managed to stay so positive after what they'd been through. They both were left orphaned after their parents had died in a car crash. Had Harley not been somewhat of a decent teen and already of age at that time, they both would've been set into the system. He'd taken guardianship of the young female though, and together they tried to have something of a normal life. School, breakfast, and work. Harley had gotten into some trouble though, finding that his job at the bar wasn't all the way legit and ran by a few shady characters.
This would be different though, he'd promised his sister he wouldn't go back to prison - he'd promised himself the minute he was released. Shoving his hand into his pocket he toyed with the few items he had, small tokens of his time before prison. Luckily, they hadn't tossed out his cigarettes, filtering through the small green box he pulled out one of the smokes, lighting it with the lighter he'd gotten from Olivia on his birthday. It'd been inscribed with his name. Inhaling the smoke, he hissed some at the familiar burning, the way his head swooned some from the tobacco. Eventually he recognized the little head bobbing to the sound of smooth jazz as a black four door pulled up to him.
"Hey jail bird," the sweet voice yelled through the window of the passenger side. He'd missed that smile, carefree and happy.
[center [b _]]
[right [pic http://i.imgur.com/XyrcZdt.png?1]] Olivia played with her phone, reading over the text she had sent to one of her good friends. She'd met the woman her last year of college, she'd gone to a bar with some friends and saw the woman standing outside having a very heated exchange with the bartender. Olivia had gotten a taste of the woman's life at that time, watching how tightly the male held the woman's arms in his.
The young female bit at her lips, being careful not to cut through the flesh as she kept back the vicious inclination of vomit.
That was the past. She'd promise to pick the female up and have her stay with her. No more could she sit still while someone she cared for was being thrown about like a rag doll every night, especially in front of her own daughter. It was just but fortunate luck her older brother Harley was being released from prison. She didn't know what would happen if she attempted the escape alone. If her partner was there or even caught them Olivia was sure they couldn't win against him and if anything happened to her, Harley would surely go back to jail. He was protective of her, too protective at times. She understood though, how hard it had been for the men to suddenly become a father of some sorts - even though often she found herself watching out for Harley. She shuddered at the memories, the cuts she tended to and the broken ribs - that one time meeting him in the hospital to find the bullet had barely managed to miss a vital organ.
Pulling to a complete stop, she turned the music down some and smiled at the familiar face. She already could see the spark in his dark brown eyes, even with age difference they were always very close. Losing their parents had made them closer. She watched as her brother flicked the cigarette, shoving his frame into the car. He was tall, having to push the seat back some for long legs. Calloused hands, with feint scars running along them greedily reached out for a hug. She was swallowed in his arms, muscular from days of working out.
"Lil sis," he breathed out.
"Breathe, I can't breathe," she managed to chuckle out. Harley had pulled away, rubbing the top of her head affectionately.
"'s standing out there long enough. Nearly got a cold!" Olivia rolled her eyes.
"You're alive aren't you?" Snorting some she began to pull off, her hands gripping the steering wheel some as she tried to find a way to tell her brother about tonight. She busied herself and filled the car's silence with small talk about work and school. She knew though, eventually, Harley would ask what was keeping the woman so wound up. He could read her easily.
------------------
Daxton ran his hand through his hair, the dark black tresses rebelling and once more falling carelessly in front of his face. They were beginning to get too long and the male had been too lazy to go in for a haircut recently.
“Where the hell is Charlie?” Daxton had flicked the last of the cigarette as he turned his gaze toward Frank, the male behind the wheel of the parked black fan they both sat parked in. Frank was busying himself with the cheeseburger they had purchased just thirty minutes over, only choosing to speak as he washed down the patty with a coke, a splash of rum had been mixed in as well. Frank smirked some, turning to face Daxton.
“Aw, c’mon you know the girl is always late.” I was true, the female always had the hardest about being on time despite how important this night was. The fan was parked two houses away on the opposite side of the street that they had planned to enter. They were making sure that everything would go smoothly, and seeing a car pull into the now empty parking lot wasn’t ideal. They had staked out the home for the last month though, making sure to take in everything about the billionaires schedule, his daughter’s, hell anyone that would come in or out of the home.
Languid hands finally dug into the bag, Daxton reaching for his lukewarm burger as hunger was becoming clear. He pushed up the sleeves of the black long sleeve he wore, his arms decorated with a span of tattoos. He took a bite, opting for his own separate mix drink that sat in his cupholder.
“Yeah,” mouth full Daxton didn’t care to have any manners in the presence of his friend, a man he would consider his brother. He’d worked with Frank nearly all his life, knowing the man eleven of the twenty-six years of life. They’d pulled many jobs, robbed banks, and the occasional little petty and small time con games. This was big though, something that if didn’t go right could definitely lead to some serious jail time However, he knew that if it did manage to run off well, then they’d all be filthy ass rich. This was meant to be their final job, at least he hoped so. Daxton admitted living a life of crime was sometimes exhausting. He’d been on his third bite when in the rearview mirror he could see lights from a dark blue car slowly turning off as it crept up behind him. A slim woman, black gloves on hand pulling up her dark tresses into a ponytail was beginning toward them. Daxton took a hungry sip of the mixed drink, his mind slowly becoming a bit fuzzy at the liquor. Charlie had walked toward the passenger side, she was the get away driver.
“Fuck you stuffing your face for. Let’s move.” Daxton smirked, the woman could be cold but she was exciting and sure he was a bit bias considering at some point they’d actually been engaged. That didn’t last though. Daxton shoved the food away, following Frank’s movements as he’d begun to fit his black gloves over his hands, a ski mask soon following. Daxton grabbed the black bag that contained their items.
Simultaneously the trio had set timers on their watches.
“Alright, lets go.” Daxton mentioned, Frank on his heel, barely keeping up as the man was of a heavy stature, legs a bit shorter than Daxton who nearly towered over his companion. In the shadow of darkness they began toward the back of the house. Shit, no turning back now.
---------------
Lourdes pushed back rebellious dark strands of curly hair. Her hair was finally growing back long after she'd decided to cut it early this year. She sighed in relief, seeing how the twenty-four year old female had instantly regretted that decision. However, not use to the length, it was getting to be a bit annoying. Finally managing to contain the curls in a hair tie, on the brink of snapping any second, she finally was able to focus on the book she held in her hands. Studying, she was always studying even when she didn't have to. Like now, she'd already taken her test that morning for her Western Cinema course and already had completed her PowerPoint presentation on Henri Matisse. She rubbed at her face, closing her eyes before the hazel orbs managed to fall back on the pages.
She didn't know why she strained herself so, considering with dyslexia studying was never pleasant. Despite the diagnosis, she'd still managed to remain a top student: valedictorian in highschool, Dean's list 3 years in a row, hell - she was now graduating a year older due to the countless of hours she put in. Though, with work cane very little pleasure and sometimes the female found herself holing away in her apartment away from her friends and ignoring any invitation to a frat party or just a night out in town. [I Party]. She groaned internally as she had remembered the party she'd been invited to by Daxton. She'd ignored the man's texts all day asking if she was still planning to attend and how he wouldn't take no for an answer. Her relationship with the male was a little on the side of unusual; her mother had been their housekeeper, maintaining the three-bedroom two story home that contrasted toward the small barely two bedroom apartment she'd grown up in.
Life in her teen years weren't easy being raised by a single mother. Often Lourdes didn't have the newest clothes, technology, or even the [I freedom] as her friends and fellow classmates did. While when younger it was something Lourdes found hard to deal with, often embarrassed, she had eventually learned to get over it. She'd gotten a scholarship to the university and with working she'd managed to find a pretty affordable place to live. Even if her roommates were a tad on the annoying side. Nibbling on her bottom lip she'd finally decided Daxton at least warranted a response.
She untucked long legs from the crisscross position, wincing some as the blood began to run through, her nerves tingling as her foot was no longer numb and asleep. Her legs creaked some as she stood, stretching to her five foot 9 height. It was her smooth mocha skin, the way her eyes tilted in an almost sultry feline shape, but still wide with wonder and curtained by long curly eyelashes, and the naturally thin feature that often had people suggesting she should model. She wanted to be behind the camera though, not in front of it. Especially considering she had no fashion sense. She spied her phone sitting on her dresser, turning on the light to illuminate what was a dim room, barely lit by the Christmas lights stringing from above her twin bed. The non-touched phone sat cold in her palm, she barely glared over the messages, finding she'd respond to them after a shower if anything. Finding the thread with Daxton she chewed on her lip as she typed in the words, having to retype due to her broken screen before pressing send, typos and all. [I 'Stp texting me, 'm coming. k?']
Grabbing her speaker from where it sat on the small dresser next to her bed, she started for the bathroom. She sighed in relief at hearing the silence, no one was home which meant the small shower in the only bathroom of the house wouldn't be occupied. Small moment of peace before the party, sounded like a good compromise.
[center [b _]]
[right [pic http://i.imgur.com/cnL6bEE.png]] His phone vibrated against his dresser, or was that the floor? Opening his eyes barely to mere slits long limbs reached over clumsily , his hand slapping against the top of the dresser to find it empty.
"Oh c'mon," Daxton drawled out, licking his lips. His mouth was as dry as his throat. Finally mustering the strength to sit up, he pushed back the silver white hair, a new color he had decided to experiment for - fun? Who knows? Rubbing at his eyes, he tried to reach for the phone without having to get out of bed, reaching and nearly tumbling out of the king size safety net before grabbing the phone. "Shit," he mumbled, not knowing it had been that late in the day. He'd been sporadically napping since the morning, finding it incredibly hard to fall asleep now a days. He smirked some at seeing Lourdes' name flash across his screen, knowing all too well if he had bugged the female enough she'd eventually acquiesce to his invitation. It wasn't necessarily that he needed her to come to have a good time, more so to make sure he stayed out of trouble. Besides, he felt like he'd barely caught wind of the girl, flighty and holed up like a sparrow - her head in a book or her eyes glued to a screen, watching the latest film from this actor, that director, whoever. Sometimes, he didn't really pay attention, but there was something soothing about just being in Lourdes' presence alone.
She'd come over to his place some when they were younger, her mom cleaning the almost always pristine home. Together the two would be in the backyard, trying to figure out something of a friendship. All of his friends were stuck up, posh and preppy and well, he figured with how quiet Lourdes could be she probably barely had any friends. They managed to settle along well though, her being quiet, but not as shy around him, while he'd always been a bit chaotic. A good ol' ying yang type of friendship.
Dropping the phone after responding, he struggled with whether or not to get out of bed. He needed to shower, needed to take a leak, hell he needed to message his professors about missing class that day. It was true, with his father being an active donor to the school, he could get away with some things. Daxton had always told himself he'd never want to be that guy, the guy who'd only succeeded because of who his father was. Though, with the short stints in jails and the fact the man sometimes couldn't even get out of bed, he knew he was nothing really like his father which both pleased and terrified him. Throwing the black comforter off of him, he finally turned over, his feet touching the hardwood floors as he leaned his head over. Finally settled some, not feeling too dizzy, he'd reached over to open his drawer, pulling out an old G.I Joe lunchbox that once belonged to his brother. Then, it'd been filled with juice in pouches, sweet treats, and sandwiches. Now, it filled nearly to the brim with paraphernalia. Most of which he sold. He needed money on those rare occasions his father would cut him off, before his mother would talk some sense into him. His mother, sweet and nurturing and warm; she was always the peacekeeper. Daxton couldn't understand how she'd ended up with the cold calculating man he called 'dad'.
After procuring a tab, he popped it into his mouth dry. Just something to make him loose, get his blood pumping. He grabbed the phone, texting his friend Josh who would come through with the drinks and something like food. He knew normally no one really ate at parties. End of the night there's be chip crumbs in between his couch and slices of pizza lying on the counters, some in random rooms. He stood tall, kicking through clothes that lied on the floor. His room really was a mess, his whole apartment truthfully. He'd have to call someone to clean, knowing he was much too lazy at the moment.
Walking over into the kitchen, he lazily grabbed at the fridge, damn near empty and nothing to eat but leftover Chinese food. Grabbing a beer, he popped open the tab and took a hungry gulp. His head was already buzzing, he didn't even bother to heat the food. He just turned on the tv, mindlessly putting on whichever Netflix show he'd been watching last night. His body buzzed with attention and he laughed to himself. After this, he'd shower.
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[left [pic https://i.imgur.com/RGEXCq6.png]]
[size9 Daxton and his father shared a lot of the same facial features. His father had aged well, a handsome man hazel eyes that shined like honey. His hair was thick and greying, slicked back in the same style he'd worn for years. He could pass for a bit younger, but the fine lines at the corner of his eyes told his age. Thick calloused hands from days of working at the auto shop gripped the leather steering wheel.
"You getting in?" The man suggested, a mumble almost. He didn't sound happy or upset, there was no emotion in his voice if anything. That was their relationship, strained and confusing - no brightness, just a thin line of connection. He hadn't realized he'd been standing there that long, finally lugging the door open. It creaked, and he felt the car sink some when inside.
"Thanks." He quickly averted his eyes, staring out the window as the man drove off. It was a silent ride for the most part, music playing to fill up space. His dad still favored country music. They used to fight about that. They fought about everything damn near. He was trouble. His father hated constantly having to pick him up from the Principal's office, all those late night phone calls to bail him out of jail - having to get him a lawyer. For most part he had to deal with Daxton's problems just as much. He shuddered at the memory of summer. That'd put him in some hot shit.
He was glad to hear that they'd moved, make his dad's life somewhat easier. The music had been turned down now and he realized his father was talking to him. He listened with half an ear; he was going on about rules. He'd be working with his father at the shop 'no living for free'. He had a curfew, in by 11.
"11?" he challenged, his voice louder than before, but left it at that just by the look his father gave him. No fighting, keeping his hands out of people's pockets, and partying was an absolute no. While he didn't like it, Daxton knew this is what he'd have to deal with until he'd made enough to leave. He was on probation though, it'd be a while before he could even surpass past his town. Permission. Everything required permission.
Eventually they pulled up the road that led to his family home. If anything, his dad made sure to maintain it. It was beautiful, two story home with rich brown paneling. The grass healthy and green and the street from his childhood still stood tall, the tire swing sturdily hanging from a thick branch. The two got out of the car and began toward the house before heading inside.
"Here," his dad mentioned, shoving a pair of keys into his hand. One of them looked familiar.
"I can't drive you around like a chauffeur," he grumbled. "House key and your car's in the garage.
"Dad," Daxton started, "Thanks." His father had already started up the stairs, already trying to get away from him before stopping and looking over his shoulder.
"Don't mention it." Gripping his keys tight Daxton looked around the house. The wood floors clean and polished and family photos hanging on the walls. He heaved a sigh, he needed a drink.
Walking out the door, he made sure to lock up. He looked up at the sky, in between a purple and orange. It was cooler now, not as hot as earlier. It was a long ride from the prison into town. He figured Mike's bar was still open. It was a staple in town. Heading toward the garage he pulled up the door. He could already see the outline of the black Camaro underneath the grey tarp. A proud car man, he doubted his father didn't make sure it stayed in prime condition. He'd even patched up the holes from the bullets shot at him. He hopped in the front seat, running his hand over the steering wheel. A smile stretched across his face, now this felt good. The air inside was a bit stale, but he got used to it. After toying with the radio some, he eventually landed on a rock station and pulled out.
The bar was easy enough to find, Daxton had no trouble navigating the streets of Utica. He'd parked on the street, running his hands over his arms. It was a little chilly, but a shot or two would warm him up. Music and conversation spilled from the inside. He followed the noise, into the dim lit bar filled with locals, some he could recognize immediately.
"Well I'll be, son of a bitch!" He'd heard Mike's loud voice bellow. Strutting over Daxton gave the man a smirk, pushing his hair back before giving him a solid handshake. Daxton was nowhere near as strong as Mike, his arms were well toned though, thin underlying of muscle and his shoulders broad. He'd never lost in a fight, anger only making him stronger.
"Mike," he chuckled out. "How you been?"
"Good good, how's life on the outside?"
"Never better, can't think of going back." Daxton mentally shuddered at that thought.
"Yeah I bet. I got new windows too, so don't you even think about getting into anything."
"Scout's honor."
"What'll you have, on me - a little welcome home drink" He knew he'd have to run up a tab, seeing how he only had that twenty-three dollars to his name. He'd have to see what he still had in the bank.
"Double shot of Jameson." His eyes scoured over the familiar bar, landing on the clock. It was a little after seven. [i Elven o'clock]. Mike placed down the glass of amber brown liquid. His first drink in months. He looked at the girl next to him, she looked familiar. "Anyone sitting here?" He motioned toward the stool next to her. Thinking he saw a shake of hair he took the seat and greedily tossed the drink back. He coughed some, the burn intense as the liquid coursed through.
"Oh, don't tell me you don't know who this is?" Mike mentioned, raising his brow with a smirk. Just another look was all it took. "Simone?" Daxton inquired. She'd grown up, definitely not the sweet seventeen girl he knew. She'd lived just across the street from him. He knew with the tattoos and long hair he definitely didn't resemble his younger self. "Wow," was all he could say staring at her. What'd come of her?
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[left [pic https://i.imgur.com/RGEXCq6.png]]
[size9 "Make sure you remove your mask when you're down there. And always keep your sleeves pulled down - Okay Xavier? Xavier are you listening?" Xavier rolled his eyes as he zipped up is backpack, watching Neo his little furry friend crawl into the pocket. She was a kitten he'd found, somehow it'd managed to survive since birth, but it was clear the little ball of white fur would be no bigger than the size of his hand. She looked like a normal kitten, had you not looked into her bright red eyes. Finally turning the young adult faced his mother, well she wasn't really his mother. His throat tightened at the thought of what had happened to his actual mother. But Morrie was just as much a caregiver as if she had given birth to the young man herself.
"I hear you Morrie," he said with a small smile. His light grey eyes, one with limited vision, managing not to roll to the back of his head. "I've done this before you know that." He wanted to tell her not to worry, but he knew that was a useless suggestion.
Going down below was always dangerous. Xavier liked to think he did pretty well though, he [I was] the top Scorer in the Above anyways. This mission was different though. He wasn't going down there to snoop or steal their water. This was an important mission, one that could change the lives of the People forever.
"I know you hear me, just after what happened to Camille." The woman pursed her lips, her chubby cheeks sagging with dread. Morrie was often a cheerful woman, a bundle of positivity in dreadful times. Things were different though since she had lost Camille. Morrie shook her head, brown ringlets shaking right along like springs suspended midair. Camille had gone on the last scoring trip. She'd been gone for nearly 3 months at this point. It was hard not to believe the girl was alive though. Xavier was sure she was, hoped at least.
"Hey," he finally said as he lugged his satchel over his back, he stood taller, now at his full height where he towered over the older woman at a height of 6 foot. "Don't worry. I will come back, it'll only be a few weeks maybe even less than that." He chuckled, always the cocky sort of lad. He watched some sense of relief wash over Morrie's face.
"You're right. C'mon let's get you going. It's going to be nasty once sunset." Together they embarked through the makeshift house. All homes and structures were connected Above, almost like an above ground tunnel. He'd his goggles on, the sunlight piercing down from above. His body had gotten used to the heat, but you never fully adjust. He could feel his skin becoming warmer underneath his black long-sleeved shirt, Neo had now crawled onto his shoulder, basking in the shade of stark white hair, blending in almost. Morrie was getting old though and it was harder for her to get around under the weather conditions.
He'd barely made it to Tunnel 3 before finally stopping. The Tunnels were always filled with commotion, children running around with makeshift toys from shrapnel and any of the things that managed to survive after all these years.
The smell of meat clung to the hair and if you really closed your eyes you could hear the loonies in Tunnel 6, those who had lost everything in the Flash including their minds.
"Promise you'll be safe," Morrie whispered.
"Always," Xavier responded over his shoulder, climbing down a ladder he began crossing through, cutting through tunnels crawling with people. It was a busy day, the sixth day was always like this. It was the one day water rations weren't limited, which meant a chance to shower - one sniff and you could see why this was the happiest day for the colony. Luckily being a Scorer had its perks, Xavier had early access while the rest were asleep. He'd finally reached the end of the Tunnel; the voices of the people now feint before pushing through rubble that had been stacked. Initially it was what kept them safe . . . safe from the cannibals. There were still some out there, way beyond rehabilitation. From experience though, Xavier knew just how to deal with one. His hand instinctively reached for the gun at his side. Straight through the head was usually what it took. You only had one shot, one shot to kill or to run.
The sun still sat high in the sky, but already he could feel the thick air thinning into what would only be a nice breeze before the cold set. He knew though it was safe for now to remove his mask. He'd managed to walk for about an hour, his body taut from the cold, before he'd reached the gate. A rusted sign, faded from years of storms and caked in dust was posted along it [I Area 51]. He knew better though, then to enter from the front. Posted at the front and on top of the roof were guards, there to keep the bad out and everything good in and protected. He'd have to wait for actual nightfall when they couldn't stand the cold and would end their shifts. That's when he'd be able to actually enter into the Below.
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[left [pic https://i.imgur.com/RGEXCq6.png]]
[size9 /LAF/Daxton impatiently tapped his fingers on the counter, watching through thick black bars as the short heavy-set woman rifled for his belongings. He sighed in relief, the last time he would see bars like this if he could help it. His time at the Utica prison was, well it was shit. It did him good to play the good guy or else he would've had to complete his full two year sentence.
"Emery," the officer barked. His eyes lifted from the chipped grey counter. Dark brown eyes looked briefly over a nametag that read 'Jefferson' before meeting her gaze.
"Twenty-three dollars in cash, brown leather wallet, gold chain . . ." He willed the woman to read his belongings off quicker, was satisfied when he lazily scribbled his signature on the form, tugging the bag through the thin slit. "Restroom to your right, when you're finished we'll buzz you through. Got it?"
"Got it," he'd mumbled under his breath. With his free hand he pushed into the bathroom, locking the door behind him, wincing at the bright white lights that shined against the too white sink and floors. The inmates' bathrooms didn't look like this. "Damn," he whispered, a small smirk tugging at his lips as Daxton found his reflection in the mirror. It'd been a while since he saw himself in a mirror, only catching sight of himself briefly when he'd gone to the infirmary. His first few months here weren't exactly. . . confrontation free. He almost didn't recognize the man in the mirror, now twenty-six as of two months ago, his hair hung awkwardly in his face, still short on the sides from a recent cut but the front way too long. He'd shoved calloused hands through the stringy mess, willing it to stay put.
"You okay in there?" The familiar voice through the door brought him back to reality. Right, a minute ago he couldn't wait to get the hell out of here, why was he stalling in front of a mirror?
"Uh - uh yeah, 'm almost through." Daxton cleared his voice, even the slow southern drawl in his voice sounded foreign outside those concrete walls. Daxton began to strip, his body riddled with tattoos, most he'd gotten from nights of binge drinking and partying at night. He'd only one that mattered, his mother's name swopping against the side of his neck. Cancer. What a bitch. His white shirt he'd been wearing when he was booked smelled a bit stale, but nonetheless it was clean. Removing the rest of the jumpsuit, he shrugged on a pair of black jeans, disappointed he'd lost some weight as they barely held on to his hips. Stuffing his feet into a pair of ratty of black Converse, he shoved the contents from the plastic bag into his pockets, took a deep breath and walked out. Finally, a free man.
[center [b _]]
He'd been standing outside in the hot sun for nearly an hour when he'd heard a rattling coming from across the parking lot. Thick clouds of smelly smoke trailed behind the beat up rusted blue pickup truck. It'd been months since he saw his dad, the man who had made fewer trips to visit him. He'd only recently started answering his calls; that was the term of his release. He had to live with his father, a man he hated, was now once again responsible for Daxton.
Heaving a sigh, he watched as the truck came to a stop. Here to being kind of a [i free] man.
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[left [pic https://i.imgur.com/RGEXCq6.png]]
[size9 Camille ran her hands through long spiraling strands of hair before she sighed out of frustration, finally it into a bun. The guards had stripped her of everything but the clothes she wore and one lone scrunchie she was surprised had lasted long enough to keep the thick hair out of her face. They did, however, take her shoes which was a bit annoying. Barefooted, she stood off the cot and paced the small cell. She could hear through thick cemented walls the voices of fellow cellmates, but they were all separated. She'd not seen another single person except for the guards and the President. She rolled her eyes just thinking about the man. "What guy," her light voice whispered under her breath. She had no reason to whisper but didn't trust everything about this prison. She felt like someone, anyone could be listening in. Especially, with the knowledge she had about what the President was planning.
Crossing her arms she tried to recall the outside of this cell, she'd been planning her escape for weeks. Attacking the guard would be easy. Though petite, Camille was strong. She had willpower and the dexterity of a monkey her mother would joke. It was getting out of the prison and managing not to be caught again as she traveled through the Below. She chewed on her bottom lip it'd been her own fault really. The girl had been bathing and not paying attention to her surroundings. Nude, you could see the scars on her back, the stretched awkwardly like the roots of a tree. Her first score she'd been stupid enough not to wear her coat when she fell asleep. She awoke to the sun, melting her skin. She'd barely managed to get back to the colony.
Had she not been accosted by a seedy fellow with the worst thoughts in his mind, she would've been home.
She did admit, it was bittersweet to hear how he screamed and to see the fear in his eyes. Camille chuckled. They'd dragged her through the streets in chains, a muzzle strapped to her face. There was a national alert, the alarms sounding and bright red lights blinking. She felt the sharp pain of a needle at her neck before she had passed out. Drifting in and out of consciousness she could hear the deep rumbling voice.
[I How had she got here? Who was guarding? How was she able to get through?] His voice was tight with anger, the words snaking through pursed lips. She knew though, she wasn't the monster they thought the Above people to be and that was dangerous. Her mere presence posed a threat to everything the man had built.
[center [b _]]
[right [pic http://i.imgur.com/LTHYhOO.png?1]] Xavier had hid behind an abandoned tank. It was clear it'd been salvaged for parts, probably from the first build of the Below. He remembered when news traveled of the Below, how many were turned away at the risk they had diseases. It was true at that time when the food was low people had resorted to eating humans. That was a dark period, contrast to the light that had turned society into what It was today.
Drawing his sleeves down, the man brought his hands to his mouth and breathed into them. The cold was starting to settle in. Eventually the sky turned so dark it almost looked pitch black, but he couldn't make out any shapes of humans any longer. Still low he began toward the gate, his hand reaching to his belt. His eyesight had improved, he didn't need light to find the key hanging from his belt. It was crudely shaven, but he'd managed to get in. A satisfying click rang in the silence of the night. He patted his pocket, confirming that Neo was still peacefully sleeping inside. He'd started toward the opening. From the outside you would think there was no way to get in. The handle was rusted completely off, but Xavier knew better. He'd been here plenty of times. His hands pressed against the cold steel, roaming over until he found the small slit. [I Bingo]. Gritting his teeth, he began to push inward, his muscles taut as he mustered up the strength. There was a croaking as the door had been open. Dropping his hands to his side he began in, having to crouch due to his height. Making sure to close the door behind him, he started down the dark tunnels toward a world unlike his own.
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Annoyed. The male was to find for the third time that night within an hour he was up and heading to the bathroom. Gently he made his way out of the bed, so as not to disturb the female who slept in the bed beside him. Samantha stirred somewhat, turning on her side, blonde curls falling in front of her face. Peaceful. Michael stood then and quickly headed for the bathroom. He struggled walking in the darkness, his eyes trying to see through the blurry vision as he crossed the bedroom and headed toward the bathroom. His hands blindly reached out toward the wall, finding the switch to which his eyes narrowed against the blinding light. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes tighter, as though that would alleviate the exhaustion he felt.
Finished with using the restroom finally, he washed his hands and face, not surprised to find that it was nearly six in the morning. Sleep was becoming nearly impossible and day by day things were becoming difficult. Michael didn’t know what to do to cope. Something was wrong and he was simply ignoring it. For why, he had no clue.
Light grey eyes stared at himself, the reflection in the mirror that did show a very tired male. Of course, he was tired, trying to maintain some type of a romantic life while working on a new novel was difficult. Especially when the novel was already receiving major buzz within a month of informing the public, he was working on it. His hands, stained from ink as he believed in traditional writing, no computers or technology, managed to pass through tangled dirty blonde strands of hair. Michael knew there was no way he was going to be able to go back to sleep. He shut off the bathroom light and headed out, pausing to look at Samantha once more. The two of them had been dating for the last three months, though he hadn’t hinted at anything quite serious. Samantha was younger than him: he twenty-six and she twenty-three. She was smitten and yet Michael didn’t know what he saw for their future. When they had first met it seemed like a nice fling. Eventually there were more and more dates and now she was talking about moving in. He didn’t know though, his heart never seemed to swell to the point of bursting out of his chest when he saw her. He was afraid to bring it up in fear of losing her and yet hated himself for what seemed like using her as a convenient piece of tail.
He head downstairs, the floor creaking with each step which was understandable as the house was nearly fifty years old. Michael made himself a drink and sat at his desk in his office. He only had three pages written and it had already been two weeks. A deadline was steady approaching and he wondered if he would be able to meet it.
He awoke to the smell of breakfast, knowing Samantha was cooking, dressed in one of his shirts and listening to whatever song played o her playlist. He walked into the kitchen then, greeted by the doe eyed beauty who eagerly wrapped her arms around him for a kiss.
“Hey sleepyhead,” she said in between giggles. “Your mother called. Said something about helping an old friend move in. breakfast should be done . . .” he wasn’t really listening then, his mind trying to comprehend just who this [I old] friend was.
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Harley leaned against the wall of cool tile of the bathroom wall, his eyes struggling to stay open some; he was lost in a blissful oblivion from the heroin he had injected himself with earlier. A languid smile spread across his face. He heard the door squeak open.
“Fuck Harley, you in here?” The voice was distant some, fading in and out from low to oud. It was his guitarist, Justin, no doubt looking for the male since they were due on stage any moment. The door was pulled open, a gust of cool air brushing against him. “Shit dude, really? This is important, that guy from the label is out there.”
“’m fine, relax.” Harley mumbled, allowing Justin to carry his six foot two frame near the sink. Coming somewhat to a stand, Harley turned on the sink, splashing cool water onto his face. This was a routine, he was used to this – getting high and then somehow trying to function. There was something about heroin though that was so enticing, it made it hard for the male to ignore his desires and the drug did something to him that unleashed a certain artistic genius in him. Justin ran his hands through blonde locks, watching as Harley swayed against the sink. He shook his head, they’d been friends since they were in highschool. He worried one day the man would over do it, if anything he knew if Harley went on a binge, he would have to call his [I girlfriend]. Well not really his girlfriend, but there was a bond between he two that couldn’t be broken. Drunk, high, hell even when he was in one of his bad splurges of anger, Justin knew that she was the one to call to handle him.
Harley ran his hand through the messy dark strands of hair, his warm brown eyes now sark, almost appearing black. “Let’s go,” he finally said as he headed toward the bathroom door, Justin trailing after him to meet the rest of the band. There was an already large crowd on the floor of the bar, cheering as the band began to form on the stage. The band’s name, Dissonance, lit on the wall. If there was ever another thrill that Harley lived for it was performing. It was second nature then. Harley gripped the microphone, the people like a sea of ants and barely noticeable through the haze of being high and the lights that nearly blinded them. He fell into the routine, as always his songs saying everything that the male felt, all the thoughts that ran through his head beautifully organized in a few simple verses.
The set had ended after a three hour show, luckily he had managed not to pass out this time, which proved beneficial as the record label man had given them his card: [I Henry Marco]. He liked what he saw and wanted them to come in the following week for a meeting with the label. This good spell was more than enough for the male to get into the celebratory spirit. Somehow time had seen to run away from him, it was one drink and then before he knew it he’d finished almost a whole bottle of the bar’s whiskey before they were ushering him out. They were closing and he had been so focused on making sure his glass was full to even notice. Stumbling some, he waved off the security guard, him being a regular at the bar making him appear harmless.
He looked around then, the streets quiet and his head in a whirl, he couldn’t remember where he parked his car and didn’t want to bother finding it. Managing to keep his eyes trained, he reached into the pocket of his black denim jacket, finding his phone and searching for his recent calls. He would call [I her]. She had always been there when he needed her.
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Marcello turned in bed, the smell of breakfast arousing him from sleep. Though he would’ve been up anyways, as always he aroused in a cold sweat from the dream that came to him every night since he was a child that could recall. The dream started off when he was thirteen, sitting in the boat with his stepfather Gregory – a man that had a great love of fishing and shared it with Marcello. They were talking about school then, Marcello would be going into middle school soon. Greg had been rambling about girls, trying in a sense to give him the talk which a young boy like himself was interested in, but not nearly that much to hear the details and not from Greg. He didn’t hate the man, he had come into his and his mother’s life when Marcello was only five. It was odd having a man in the house, even more odd to see his mother happy and full of light.
Marcello never knew his father and his mother was quite secretive about him, always shying away from any questions about his life and where he was from – most importantly, why did he abandon them? There was only one picture of the couple, one his mother had relinquished to her son after tiring of him rifling through her things to get a look at it. Two very attractive adults, his father a tall man with light blonde hair, long and pulled into a bun exposing a stunning jawline – he was handsome and it was clear that a lot of Marcello’s features had come straight from his father – though he certainly had gained his mother’s hazel colored eyes.
He had been in the boat, distracted by the water. Since he was young Marcello loved the water, swimming, fishing, surfing – any way he could be near it worked for him. There were times he would walk the docks, times when he couldn’t sleep. There was something different about the sea that day though. As he stared into the wide blue abyss, he saw a face coming from below. He thought he had gone crazy and it didn’t help that Greg fed into the boy’s imagination – telling him the story of the sirens that lived there. A legend that was often told in the seaside town.
He never told anyone that he actually believed it, but he did and since that day, the dream had haunted him. Marcello couldn’t dwell on that though, he had a major sail to prepare for. He would be sailing to the island Anthemusa which was said to be cursed as any sailor that dared go into those parts of the water never returned. Marcello was confident though, they didn’t call him the King of the Sea for no reason. There were supposed to be the rarest fish – fish galore there and he wanted to be the first to bring them back.
Coming to a stand, he ran his hands through his hair, stretching before gathering a few things to shower. He could hear his mother downstairs, humming along as she prepared breakfast. Marcello had moved back after he was abroad. Greg had passed away and his mother had been diagnosed with MS. That being why he had to make the money in the home as it was becoming harder for her to work at the library and keep up with all the bills. Marcello didn’t mind, as he was close with his mother.
After his shower he dressed in a pair of dark jeans, boots, and a black long sleeve. He made sure his bag was packed for the four day trip and grabbed his jacket and beanie before heading downstairs.
“Well there is my sleepyhead,” his mother said with a smile, walking over to place a plate in front of him along with a glass of juice.
“Every fisherman needs a good rest before sail off. Especially when you’re going alone,” he responded with a smirk before biting into a slice of buttered toast. He could see the worry on his mother’s face then. “Mother, I’ll be fine.”
“That place – it’s dangerous Marcello and you shouldn’t be going along. Can’t you take Dennis?” She asked as she wrung her hands together before she took a seat across from him and began to eat. He could see the trouble she had with keeping the fork in her hand.
“Don’t worry,” he said with a smile. “I’ll be fine and Mary will be by to help you out. I’ll be back before you know it.” He gave his mother the smile she loved before finishing his breakfast. He leaned in to kiss her forehead, placed on his beanie and coat and grabbed his duffle, slinging it across his back.
“Marcello,” his mother said as she followed him to the door. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” he said with a smile. He left then, getting into his car to head to the docks.
---------------------
“The Council has made their decision. Are there any final words from the defendant?” Gabriel’s attorney looked over to him before shaking his head. Gabriel couldn’t even look anyone in the eyes, ashamed that he was even in this position. He was convicted of falling in love with a human and because of losing sight of what was important – she lost her life, giving birth to their child. For that he was stripped of his wings. His hands fiddled with one another, stunning azure eyes never making direct contact with the judge. He felt like a sheet of paper with his wings, which had already been stripped – the burning scar between his shoulder blades a reminder that he would never fly again.
He had lost the love off his life, a child he would never meet, and his wings. What did he have left?
“The Council has decided as reprimand, Gabriel you are to complete one year of probation protecting one of our most important children. [I If] you succeed we will meet again to see if you are worthy to receive your wings again.” This was good news, he had a chance to get his wings back and yet Gabriel felt like he would never be the same. He left the court feeling somewhat defeated, awkward and too light. His right hand had confirmed to him though that if he remained on track then this would all work itself out.
[center [b _]]
Gabriel ran his hands through curly dark brown hair, his light blue eyes looking to find the classroom he was expected to show up to. This was his final chance, a chance in which he could earn his wings back. He wondered what made this woman he was to protect so special. Why was her case one of the highest of importance. He finally had reached the classroom then, entering the overpacked studio – voices loud and the smell of paint hanging in the air.
“Ah and here is our newest student,” a booming voice called. Gabriel was too busy surveying to notice the older gentleman had pulled him into an embrace. He smiled at Gabriel, which he shyly smiled back in response. “I’ll have take a seat with Group 7. Unfortunately one of our students as you know,” he addressed the class, “had to go back home. Luckily Gabriel will be our final student of the semester.” Gabriel’s cheeks turned red, not a fan of having eyes on him. He was ushered toward a table in the back, a face he clearly recognized being of interest out of the sea of people, including the girls who watched him.
He took a seat next to her, hands gently placed on the desk then as he tried not to stare. He still wondered though, who was she to the Council?


lol such a fucking dumb cunt. I hope your baby dies and you end up lonely. youre a miserable old hag with a floppy cunt and a hole for an ass. I hope you die from cancer if that is even true considering how often you lie you sack of shit. if I was there id kick your ass and stomp your stomach so you dont breed anymore inbreeds fucking bitch
  SincerelyLily / 90d 2h 56m 29s


Quick little intro, you may call me Lily. This is a search thread and I am looking for a female roleplayer. I want this to be a reality type of roleplay, so real pictures will be used. Plot will be discussed by you and me. I don't want to do this alone. Don't even post in this thread if you're the type to say, 'sure that's cool. Whatever you want' -____- nuu. None of that.

____________________◢◣___________________

.conditions.
    -- Interesting and creative thinker.
    -- Someone who posts over 2 paragraphs.
    -- Someone not afraid of a little cursing, violence, and other mature content.
    By mature I mean; sexual content, maybe a little physical abuse, and drug abuse as well as a little gore maybe.
    -- A frequent poster, and by frequent I mean someone who posts at least once every day or other day.
    -- Someone who adds to the plot and gives input.
____________________◢◣___________________

As of now this is all I can think of. This won't be first come first serve. I hope to find someone amazing c: However, if I get two girls, both whom I can't live without ;D I am willing to turn this into a 2x2

  ComeOnPetunia / 9y 12d 15h 20m 3s
Her dark locks draped upon her broad forehead. Thankfully, such strands made it look smaller; she was at least grateful for that. Her eyes were smokey, almost murky in color. They were a pure gray, that seemed to seek more than life could ever give her. Her lips were only slightly lush, holding a light pink color. Streaks of blond littered her top, and her body was tall and only a bit slender. A piercing lay in the middle of her brow, right atop her nose. Most would look at her and possibly not wish to have a thing with her.

Most called her a punk just by her looks. In fact, Sultana herself believed her to be one; though she was so kind hearted. She could merely watch herself stomp a nasty bug dead. She couldn't compare herself to Alaska though.. Not ever. It seemed that female won by a landslide - and that was probably why she won her man. Or so, the male she believed to her hers; and she his. Swallowing at the distant thoughts, those dark gray eyes searched Alaska's face. She hadn't changed much since the last time they'd talked. Her voice may have taken on a possible softer tone; her hair grew just a tad longer.

Her orbs were dark, to a point where Sultana wasn't all too sure what her eye color was; and she hadn't the need to ask. Her hair usually smelt quite nice, and fresh; each strand a shiny black color. Her body matched Sultana's, but sadly it was thinner. It was no wonder that he'd chosen her..

And just as Sultana continued to compare herself to Alaska, there showed up that boy. His hair in curly tufts, laying on his head happily. Slightly unkempt but still making him look mysterious. Light bags lay under his eyes, disturbing his perfectly porcelain skin. His voice was deep and husky, making her body ripple in goose flesh with the sweet sound. Shuddering quietly to herself, she inched into the room. "Yeah.." Sultana muttered softly, averting her gaze away. Only wishing now, to leave. But there was a bigger task at hand - and that had to be taken care of first before her own needs.

"Y-You.. You know where Stace is?" Sultana inquired, blinking back the silent tears that threatened to pour down her cheeks. She'd known Stacie, and knew her quite well at that. She'd met her family, had dinner a few times.. They'd been quite a pair, and most people believed Sultana was merely filling Alaska's gap; but she'd known Stacie even before then.

"..I've been getting these weird feelings. You know, whenever you walk through the forest? I can't go near it anymore.. It's not only the fact it freaks me out; but now it seems as if there's a dark ominous cloud hanging over it. Crazy I know, but.. Maybe.. Alaska's dreams, and my feelings connect in ways" Sultana probed, the words spilling out from her lips before she could control them.

[ Admin: Delete ] S u l t a n a / Rikuxlove / 6d 21h 10m 45s

"He.. Kissed.. You..?" A timid, fragile - even shaking - female voice inquired, deep suckle, honey-colored eyes staring at her friend. Tears started to bead at the corners of her beautiful eyes, making her seem like a broken doll; in fact this female had quite the pallid skin. Her cheek bones were high, as well as her skin being incredibly soft. "He kissed you," She repeated once more, voice only wavering slightly. Though she didn't want to cry, a tear slowly trickled down those perfect cheeks of hers, and she stifled a few sobs. Choking them back, shoving them into her lungs and holding it there; waiting for the moment when she'd be alone and could finally cry all her tears. Possibly think of different ways to wreak havoc with her best friend and create vengeance upon her. To possibly break her heart.. Just as Sultana's heart was. Slowly cracking, the seams breaking apart each stitch she'd carefully sewn coming undone. Her emotions were also; she did all within her power to keep herself under control.

Breathing deeply.. Each breath, seeming to release her only slightly, she faced her friend once more. Alaska. The name of such a chilly place; and Sultana had just found out what she was given such a name. Because in fact, she'd stolen her love. The male, that claimed to only have eyes for her; and both had went behind her back and kissed. Exchanging happy words, and a few hugs; even to the point where they were holding each other, lost in distant thoughts. Wetting her lips with a quick flick of her tongue, she watched as Alaska's dark locks shifted. Her neck slowly creaking as if she were being started up, and her head nodded ever-so-slowly. Shuddering a gasp, Sultana spun on the balls of her heels and ran.

Ran, and ran, and ran. Ran until tears and snot ruined her face, wetting the collar of her shirt. Until her lungs burned, and her legs could move no more; take her no further. And she'd collapsed, right there in the forest. Being found hours later by policemen, and her mother cradling her to sleep that night.


|||||


The branches of tree's clacked together, the few bare arms reaching low towards the mossy terrain below. Their small, twiggy fingers clawing at the grass; almost clawing for her. Sultana was currently walking down a long winding road, that lead towards Alaska's house. After two months of "working things out" they'd finally separated the situation, and Sultana had completely forgiven her. But still, she went back upon memories that made her chest tighten; even to the extent where tears filled her eyes like that fateful day. She grew slightly weary, and her legs trembled as she remembered how much she'd run. The distant smell of her sweat flooded her nose, and slowly she inched away from the memories.

Wishing only for a brighter future.

To catch the killer of the innocent. And do it with her best friend, Alaska.

Clearing her throat, which strained to speak she leapt up onto the porch. Knocking briefly on the wooden, brown-painted door that lead inside the house, and smiled happily at Alaska's mother. "Hello.. I'm here to see Alaska..." She greeted earnestly, deep eyes sparkling slightly. She'd changed since that day, when her heart had broken. Sultana's hair was now chopped off, neon blond highlights littering her dark locks. Though the look suited her, Alaska's mother looked at her precariously, even taken aback by her sudden change in look. Having known her for years, it came as an utter surprise. Sultana only nodded, slipped her shoe's off and stumbled up the winding staircase. "Alaska!" Sultana called, peaking her head into her bedroom.

Seeing the female and a male occupying the room. "Yo," She said. Then a female came behind her, and she merely nodding respectfully.

[ Admin: Delete ] S u l t a n a / Rikuxlove / 15d 19h 48m 12s

Addair stood up slowly, hoisting her self on to the edge of the bed. Her lean legs crossed underneath her as she listened carefully. Her brow began to furrow, for she wasn't happy to hear that her dear forest may be hosting bodies, though she kept quiet, taking in everything at once. Her fingers reached out to the note pad, being the first to look at these drawings. The first she recognized was a tattoo. The drawing was rough, but intricate. A weeping willow with very distinct twists and turns in it branches. A small water hole next to it; shining and glimmering brightly. On either side of the tattoo were curves, proving that the tattoo was placed on a persons back and shoulder, most likely a woman. . Addy raised a finger to the drawing, her head popping up quickly.

"I know this place. It's not just a tattoo, it's a in the forest." She paused imagining the spot. Knowing it quite well. She knew the exact rout to it, and in her mind, she began to take that path. "My mom used to take me there all the time, until it got pretty popular. It wouldn't surprise me if somebody got it tattooed on them." She began to think to herself, again. Either the tattoo is on the Killer's next victim... Or this place has some sort of significance. She passed the note book on to Kipp, as he was next to her. "I think we should check it out, if you guys are up for it?" Her eyes skimmed over Sultana, knowing that she would probably be against visiting any place in the forest, but Addair was hopeful that this place was a lead. She continued to think of tattoo parlors, ones that hosted rather skilled artists. If there was no significance to the tree, then the tattoo held it all.

[ Admin: Delete ] Sage Addair Parsons / Mastema / 4d 21h 5m 28s

Addair sat up, leaning back on her hands, her breath now fully caught up. Kipp and Mason stumbled into Alaska's spacious room, she began to lift her fingers to them, numbering 7, 2, 7. A large smile on her face. Even if nobody cared about her new record, she was sure to tell the world.

As Alaska began to speak, Addair stayed quiet, listening intently to her as she spoke. Her head began to nod in agreement as she said that it was their job to find out who the Zodiac killer was. But as Alaska said that she thought she might know where Stacie was, her mind went blank. But only for a moment, before filling with thousands of thoughts. She thought about Mason's Fiancée, about the families of the others who passed. And in an instant, she was thinking of her own family.

||Two years ago||
Sage stood in front of twin caskets. The covers over them, flowers covering them. The warm breeze causing her black dress to sway in the wind, her long golden blonde hair dragging in front of her tear soaked face. Her father stood directly next to her, an arm wrapped around her tightly, trying to hold back his own tears. In Sage's hand she held two flowers. One, a sun flower; her mothers favorite. The other a lilac branch; her sister Sagira's favorite smell. She placed the sun flower on top of the casket to the left, the lilac branch to the right. Her knees began to buckle as she thought of how she would never get her older sister, or her mother back again. She fell to the ground; passing out from the heat, lack of hydration. Though Sage thinks differently of this incident.

||Now||
It was two years since the accident, and they still hadn't found who had killed her Mother and sister, Sage and Sagira. Addair began to feel a hot burning in her chest, though it wasn't noticeable to the others. She suddenly burst out. "Let's do this then, yeah?" She could feel the tears dwelling in her eyes, though she didn't want to cry. Something about the fact that others are losing their family members really enraged Addy. She was all fired up, ready to find out who was doing this.

OOC: Sorry it's kind of a strange post. It's the mood I'm in right now though. xD

[ Admin: Delete ] Mastema / 12d 3m 45s


“Addy!” A deep male’s voice called out in a stern yet caring tone. “You better not be walking!” A lofty, heavy set man stood in the doorway of the petite house, the screen door swinging back in his face. Addair stood in the middle of the drive way, her shoes already in her hands, her dress swinging in the momentum of her running out of the door, and her long, dirty blonde, mess of hair was still brushing past her cheeks as her Father yelled for her to hold. She stood on her tip toes as she turned on the balls of her feet, keeping her legs crossed under her.

“I wouldn’t think of it Daddy.” Her voice was sweet, but the hint of lying was leaking from the cracks of her bright smile. He shook his head at her, He never liked calling her by her mother’s name, “This serial killer nonsense, it’s got me scared for you. I don’t want you don’t want you walking around by your self, and I especially don’t want you cutting through the woods anymore...” Addair’s heels plopped on the pavement, as she thought of a response. “Yes, yes. I understand… I promise, I’m not walking. I’m meeting up with Alaska at the Dollar General right down on Mill. Then we’re going to her house… I’ll call you when I get to her house.” Her voice started slow, steady. But as she spoke, it rushed past her lips. And before her father could muster an answer, she was turned back around, running down the lawns of her neighbors whispering to her self as she uncrossed her fingers, “I won’t be walking… I’ll be running…”

Ever since Addair read an article in a magazine labeled “Running Barefoot is Better than Sex!” she vowed to never wear shoes again. The feeling was indescribable to her. The way she could get her self going on the grass, the blades crunching under her toes, her strong legs jumping over obstacles, and the beautiful noise of air whooshing past her ears. She was obviously interested in Parkour, but there was the obvious problem with the fact that Addair was never seen in pants. She was always wearing dresses made of oversized flannel shirts, her hair tangled into tendrils, her large saggy bag in which her shoes were, and her feet bare and dirty.

The instant Addair was out of site from her house, she cut into the Davidson’s yard. She approached the towering sun burnt fence, not losing her pace in the slightest. Her hands immediately gripped onto the top of their fence, and hoisting herself over with ease. Her feet hit the cool grass and took off, knowing that they have a rather large dog named Rex. But before Rex could even respond to Addy in his territory, she was already weaving through trees in the woods that were on the other side of their fence.

|| Seven minutes and 23 seconds later ||

Addair’s knuckles met the glass of the back door of the Moon house hold. She cupped her hands around her eyes as she pressed her panting face to the glass. First she scoped the room for the clock. “Seven minutes… and 27 seconds…” Her breath panting as she observed her time. Her attention switched to movement. She saw Nicholas doing his usual routine with Ms. Moon. She tested the door to see if it was open. “Locked…” She spoke softly to her self. Her feet jumped off the cement stoop in the back and went hurdling towards the front yard. “Of course it would be locked, we’re infested with a serial killer.” Her panting voice saying as she rounded to the front door. She stopped for a moment, letting her dress and hair catch up with her. Her reflection in the glass door made her give a soft giggle. Her hand slipped into her large green bag, finding a pair of fresh white “keds”. She threw them on the ground, sliding her dirty feet in; she wouldn’t want to dirty Ms. Moon’s house.

She swung the door open, letting her self in. Her breath was still a pant from the new record that she had just broken, but that did not stop her from yelling out, “Hey Miss Moon!” before stomping through the house to Alaska’s room. She stumbled into the room, not allowing another word to be emitted from either of Alaska nor Nicholas’s mouth until the words would stop spilling from Addy’s mouth. “Seven... twenty-seven…” Dramatic pauses placed appropriately. She plopped down on the floor, smiling to her self. Addair was obviously the youngest of the three, though this never bothered her. She always thought that even if she was as old as the rest, she was still a free spirit. So, age shouldn’t discriminate them. She rested for a moment, to let Nicholas and Alaska say continue with their conversation

[ Admin: Delete ] Sage Addair Parsons / Mastema / 14d 16h 38m 8s

"Don't you fucking dare, Adrianne. Get back here with my book." He smiled at the woman on the other side of the table, both positioned to run. "Come here, you damn bitch." She giggled at his endearing epethet , bolting towards the kitchen. He automatically chased, barely missing her when she passed him. Kipp didn't notice she had ditched his literature in the chair. They ran around the island, heading into the living room. He caught up with her, pulling her into his arms. They laughsed as they fell onto the couch.

She turned in his arms, putting her small, soft hands on his chest. Adrianne grinned at him, mouth full of flawless teeth, just before kissing him briefly. "I love you, Kipp." The woman quickly left his grasp, charing out the front door. He followed after, gently pulling her down in the newly mowed grass. "So violent. Just why am I marrying you, Mr. Acres?"

"I don't know, Miss Paxon. I'm not at all a gentleman." She kissed him again, smiling all the while. They laughed, rolling around in the yard as if they were children. She soaked in his adoration of her, the affection he readily gave. They were to be married in a week and it was the talk of the town. High school sweet hearts that never stopped their teenage giggles. It felt as if they were still sneaking around, courting each other behind her father's back.

Adrianne was pregnant, though no one but the two of them knew. Of course, there was rumors of why they were rushing to have it so soon, yet no one dared to confirm it. Kipp had a reputation of cutting anyone down to their place when angered. It was simply too bad that the woman was the Zodiac Killer's first love of sorts.

~. ~. ~. ~. ~. ~.

It had been three months since the murder of Kipp's soon-to-be wife and he could still hear the people whisper. 'Could it have been him? He always was violent... Such a mouth on that boy. He's so cold. There's just something wrong with him.' Maybe, just maybe, if they stopped their continuous apologies of the loss of his fiancée, he might not snap back every time they approached him. The thought of their words had Kipp's mind reeling. His baby was gone. The love of his life had been raped, tortured, and murdered. Thinking about it all had him feeling nauseated.

The moment he found out who this monstrosity was, he would tie the sick fuck up and torture him for months before hanging him in the town square.

Kipp knocked on the door of the Moon household, quietly saying his hello to the woman at the door. She had grown used to him rarely speaking to her. Most of what left his mouth were vile words that would leave a pirate feeling disgusted. He ditched his shoes with the others and began his trek up the stairs, taking two at a time.

[ Admin: Delete ] Kipp Acres / undashable / 14d 12h 35m 32s

"That'll be one hundred fifty-six dollars and nineteen cents, Mr. Brown." Nicholas gave the middle aged man a small smile, charming as ever. He was the mechanic in the town, having saved the citizens from driving twenty miles to the next city just under five five years ago. The young male didn't grow up in this tiny town, but had moved here after getting his degree to live with his grandmother. She was getting on in age and Hollis Woods was in desperate need of someone to repair their cars. It was a win-win situation.

Once more, he gave the forty-something year old man a winning grin and watched him dish out the payment of his hard earned cash. That man didn't know that what had been wrong could have been fixed with a nine dollar tube, no one knew much about automobiles. It was the way Nicholas liked it and wanted it to stay. How else was he supposed to pay for all of his expenses? Seventy percent of most costs from body shops were the labor anyhow.

~. ~. ~. ~. ~. ~.

The Brandon boy knocked swiftly upon the Moon's door, picking at the hem of his shirt. He should have ironed it, wrinkles were distasteful. But, the moment he would sit down, said markings would be right back in place. Once he heard the door-handle jiggle, he placed a warm grin upon his face. "Mrs. Moon, it's lovely to see you today. I haven't seen you in nearly a week. Oh, how it brings joy to see your lovely face. The small things in life need to be brought to attention during such horrendous times." The woman giggled, flattery always being the best bet in females that would be twice his age if it were three years ago. "Is that chocolate chip cookies I smell? Simply brilliant."

Nicholas watched as the woman soaked in his compliments as she offered him a cookie or two. He responded in the kindest of ways, more words to boost her faltering self-esteem. Eventually, the lady relinquished him to the dangers of her daughter. He smiled and gave the woman a small wave as she disappeared back into the kitchen.

"Miss Alaska, it's always a..." he paused, knowing the situation didn't call for joyful words. "Well, it's always nice to see you."He smiled at her, seemingly happy with the appearance of her.

[ Admin: Delete ] Nicholas Brandon / undashable / 16d 2h 5m 46s
  Xavier. / SincerelyLily / 9y 111d 21h 32m 54s

Lyca slept heavily, the creases of pillow lines on his face testified to the assumption of the dark slumber. He did not dream of anything, or if he did, he could not remember anything, of the norm, this void sleep was a regular occurance to Lyca. A hand ruffled through his hand and water splashed onto his face jolted him more awake, though his mind was fresh his body felt like he slept in a cement mixer. The druggie rubbed his arms to get rid of the shakes that were the worst in the mornings, and trudged to see where group would be.

Outside.

Why was everything outside on the days he just wanted to remain in? It was official, Stone Brook hated and cursed him. Lyca Desoto shook his head angrily at this new adjustment before making a course for the outside area, it continuously fenced in only offered the slight comfort of being outdoors.

Several others were already in a gathering, all decked out for whatever outside assignment they would be given. Lyca was clothed in a pair of old pants and a sleeveless shirt, hair swept back from his face with a few drops of the splashed water. He never cared for the attire of sweats or gym clothes, but he had to wear them he supposed for this activity.

The instructor was already there as if they were all programmed to be there before anyone else, Michael only received a half wave from Lyca. Lyca slumped himself into one of the chairs, seeing the same people as before, and he would probably see them again the next day. Once one is placed in a group they never really switch, so he could remember their stories and shared backgrounds easier. Giving an inward groan at seeing all the equipment for those who liked working out Lyca could tell it was to be a long morning.



[ Admin: Delete ] Lyca / Osiris / 1d 33m 13s
Lyca sighed and let his flimsy stick figure picture fall to the table where a pile had started, relieved that it was over and the rest of the day could be dealt with, he had been put on kitchen duty since he got to Stone Brook. Unfortunately for him, Lyca was surrounded by the smell of food when he was not hungry, the noise of dishes rattling around when he had a headache, and utensils like spoons when he so badly needed a fix. He saw a girl that was just in his support group was also assigned kitchen duty, what was her name?

Shark. That was her nickname he supposed but could not remember her real name, had he ever spoken to her? No, he did not think so. She had been here longer than he had, which wasn't saying much, many people had repetitive setbacks during the recovery process and could have returned. Lyca had slipped up many times in his two months at Stone Brook, unable to get rid of the shakes he'd have someone pass him the goods through visits, after a while his visits were cut off because of this.

He was often given black tar heroin for about fifteen dollars that he would earn, the chunk would be only about the size of two tic-tac candies side-by-side but worked just fine. It has no smell except for a faint smell of vinegar. The chunk would come wrapped in plastic inside a tiny balloon, easier to pass if searched. The chunk Lyca would then place in the 'spoon'.

Stone Brook was smart about their utensils however, many of the eating utensils were plastic for druggies and cutters alike. He couldn't heat up the plastic so he had to get creative a bit. Pop cans were common around Stone Brook, and the trash-however unappealing it may have seemed-held good cans to choose from. For his alcohol he cleaned the can with hand sanitizer or something equally powerful for killing germs. The bottom of a soda pop can he used as a "spoon" to dissolve the heroin in. The bottom torn off of the can as close to the bottom as possible.

The syringe was a difficult part to pass for, his visitors never chanced giving him needles so he tried lifting them off the nurse's station. They were soon taken from him as well... But the can/spoon was mixed with the chunk of heroin and water until it dissolved into the addiction he so craved, Lyca would roll a piece of cotton into a ball a little bigger than a tic-tac. The cotton was then dropped into the heroin and it puffed up like a sponge. The tip of the syringe is pushed into the center of the cotton and the plunger was slowly pulled back until all of the heroin was sucked in. This cotton was always necessary to filter out any particles, or germs in the heroin solution.

And the rest was mostly common knowledge, one injects it and bliss.

Sadly, that knowledge in which he had practiced so many times would continue to be only a fantasy, he had no more visits and he was watched by many to make sure he wouldn't make off with anything. Stone Brook knew many of his tricks. Lyca swung his mind around again to reality, Shark-or whatever her name was was busy dishing out food to the others in the cafeteria. Lyca could help with that, but it seemed she had it covered so he put himself over to the dish area and would be cleaning for the most part. Such was fastigium of his life at the moment.

[ Admin: Delete ] Lyca / Osiris / 10d 4h 15m 33s
Finally the group thing was starting for the woman at the center began her introduction, Lyca had to stop himself from letting loose a laugh at her name, Linda Lynn, reminded him of something along the lines of Lucy-Lou. Instead Lyca resumed tugging on his middle fingernail with his teeth, not really chewing or biting just tugging the edges; the black haired woman was called upon, by the name of Kara, when introduced Lyca offered a murmur of greeting already feeling as though this was a waste of time.

He thought he was better than these weak confessional sessions, if he wanted to confess he'd go to church and confess to the preacher. What he did should be between him and God only, there was no reason to talk to these people, tell them anything about him. What would such sessions leave them with? An exposed opening into their pasts, a chance for others to poke and prod at them, just another thing they can throw in each others' faces? These negative thoughts were swirling around in his head and it showed upon Lyca's face as the blank expression soured into an angry scowl.

It stayed there for a few minutes until he became aware of it himself and he quickly sliced it away, going once more to the blank expression, every once in a while he'd look over at the woman talking. She was a pill-popper it seemed, or at least that's what she chose to talk about, what would Lyca talk about? The injections, the gambling, the random sex with gold digging women? Lyca just wished he could talk about his stupid drawing like the activity said they would, it didn't say anything about discussing this random window in their lives. Lyca sighed to himself and crossed his arms, he was still spoiled and he did not like being forced to do something he did not want to do.

Kara seemed uncomfortable and moved around in her seat a bit, this was torturous, but she was probably relieved when she got done with it so the twenty-three year old inhaled and tentatively raised his hand, motioning that he would go next in the group. He wasn't sure what would come out of his mouth for he hadn't taken much thought on it but he could probably bring something up to satisfy there curiosity.

"For those who don't know me, my name is Lyca," He left out his last name for it was the same as his father's which would then give the knowledge of Desoto Industries, and they would no doubt form their own thoughts on how the rich guy got in here. "-it was a few years ago, my friends and I were going to a part of town I had never gone to before, they told me to bring some cash and they would give me a drug that was like no other, I had lifted some money off my father without him knowing. He always kept a few bills in the house for emergency reasons, I thought he wouldn't need it or even miss it, you know?" Lyca habitually shook a hand through his long hair,

"I had experimented in school with some minor drugs, thought this was no big deal, I went with my friends and bought the drug. This was the first time I was injecting anything and, I-I had to have help because I was unsure if I was shoving the needle in correctly. In what felt like a few minutes I was flying, just completely off the ground, crazily moving about. I thought I'd never try it again...but if I had never done it again I would have never gain that strange high, and I also would not be sitting here right now. Heroin, that's why I'm here." Lyca felt a sour bile rise in the back of his throat, and he had to clasp his hands together-crumpling his picture-to stop his hands from shaking in front of others.

When he got his hands under control he unwrinkled the poorly drawn picture and showed the others the stick figure of his father, "Art is, heh, not my best thing to do, but I drew my father... He was definitely the dominant figure of the family, controlling everything down to what job one got or what they studied in school." Lyca's face darkened again, "He's a businessman so...that is what this is-the briefcase and glasses. That's it, that's all there is to it." Lyca's eyes darted to the side at the end of his own conversation, he hoped they wouldn't prod him with questions, that was all he was going to talk about even if his last sentence was a lie.

[ Admin: Delete ] Lyca / Osiris / 27d 1h 59m 0s

The life he once led was so full of promise. Lyca Desoto was a trust-fund baby, given inheritance through his father's company he worked so hard for, Lyca was spoiled growing up-that was the bottom line-Daddy's spoiled little man. Couldn't say that he ever needed anything, more like wanted everything; so things of the latter of clothes, vehicles, school, and just plain cash was always the best, he went to a private school and was pampered throughout his childhood and teen years. Pampering that led to his own demise, spoiled rich kid meet intriguing junkie.

That's how it went down, it was harmless to use a few drugs to gain a flight that he couldn't achieve on his own, drugs led to more drugs, then the possibility of gambling for more money was thrown into the mix and Lyca was drowning in his own wreck of a life.

His inheritance sustained the restless lifestyle for a short while, by the time he was sixteen he'd already had over thirty girlfriends all that were used, abused and thrown away like last seasons fads. Lyca pitied himself for a while after that, feeling that everyone else was out to get him, steal what was left of his money, his father long ago cut him off from any loaning because he would lose it in a gamble and not gain anything back. He didn't grow up much after with that mindset. Run to dad and he'll clear your debts...

Lyca was now twenty-three years old and was dumped in the rehabilitation center called Stone Brook, now he knew how the poor man survived. He had no way out of this one-he had been placed here on court order. He used to live in Jacksonville, Florida and his father said that this place was going to help him search for himself, the person who his father would be proud to call his son, and give trust in the family business, the person who he had let slip right through his fingers time and time again. 'What does it mean to live? Do we truly live in this world, or are we just existing?' He kept thinking to himself with every footfall and every linoleum he covered of this building.

A whole month, an entire thirty days Lyca has spent in Stone Brook and it was no hayride, there were the rules, the jobs, the group talk sessions, and the roommates. The part of sharing a room with someone was the worst idea ever made, Lyca had never shared anything with anyone, to share a sleeping room with someone else-it just wasn't fair. And then there was the physical aspect of being in a rehabilitation center, the nightmarish, lucid dreams, the shakes-oh, dear lord-the shakes were the worst thing Lyca had ever endured. To stop them, just to stop the constant twitching and trembling, he would do almost anything.

The activity board caught his eye when he entered the group session board they were to draw the person who was dominant in their family. It needed no thought to have a mental image of the person who controlled the family affairs, the sharp suit, the briefcase, the glasses and swept back hair... Lyca was not about to discuss his father with people he didn't know. They gave the patients an hour to work on these things, these assignments of theirs and to not do them could result in a number of consequences, they could give you some more jobs to do, confine you to your room in a 'time out' fashion, or force you to sit through a few lectures on why they had you complete the meager tasks.

Lyca looked around and began to tug at the nail of his middle finger with his central and lateral incisors, debating with himself whether or not he was willing to blow off the assignment like he did his first week here. They said they could extend the period he would be at the center if he failed to comply. Lyca pondered on this for just a moment and then decided that he would do the assignment, it wasn't going to be anything fancy, Lyca would just draw a stick figure holding a rectangle-being the briefcase and wearing glasses.

It took him maybe a few minutes to scrape a few lines across the paper with a blue marker and then he just wasted time away trying to keep himself from twitching, rocking back and forth, or demolishing his nails further from chewing. By the time he strolled into the group therapy room Lyca saw a few people already there, all women too, what happened to the other people? Lyca took a random seat, regardless of who sat where and looked down at his bland drawing. It was quite fitting. He always thought of his old man as being only one dimensional.

[ Admin: Delete ] Lyca / Osiris / 27d 2h 38m 32s

Kortney stared at the man speaking to her, as if he had lost his ever-loving mind and grew another one entirely. 'It could be worse'? He thought bathroom duty was more of a hassle than being the only female during dinner to be in the kitchen. Did he think that being one of the ones to serve the much Stone Brook attempted to pass off as food to be joyful? Did he think that listening to those disgusting males crude jokes and perverse advances were particularly entertaining? That feeling their calloused hands up on her backside was wanted? Oh no, this man was poorly mistaken.

She wanted to tell him just where he could go, but she kept it to herself. The Shark plopped his food on his plate with more force than necessary; she nearly laughed when the tray almost slipped from his hands. "Enjoy."





She laid in bed, counting the tiles on the ceiling one more time. It wasn't as if she didn't already know the number. Hell, she knew the square inches each tile took, the space the partial made up, and just how many millimeters contained the area in which her and her snoring roommate slept in.

Kortney eventually had enough of the loud noises the teenager was fond of making and threw a pen at the metal railing that bordered the head and foot of every bed. A ping echoed through the room. For a moment, the snores stopped, but that relief came to a halt as Lila turned her head to the wall and picked up the tune where she left off.

Lord, help them all.





It was such a beautiful day outside. Shark was almost pleased that they had therapy out in this wonderful weather. Of course, she wouldn't feel okay with life again for quite some time. Kortney laid out on the grass, having been the first one there. The ground was soft upon her skin, caressing her in a way no man could ever manage. At least, no man she had ever met before. The Davis girl would gladly get a darker skin complexion with the day feeling like this.

She ignored Michael; she ignored most males. To her, all they were, and ever will be, are bags of flesh ready to act upon their ways of perversion. She'll have a child, no doubt about that, but she didn't need an actual man to do the job. Artificial insemination could do the job in a much more successful fashion.

Time passed, and she drug her body to an empty chair. She refused to sit in it, but took her place upon the ground. Her head lying in the chair, arms crossed underneath it. As the only other girl in their group approached, Kortney sighed. At least there was one other person here whom's opinion mattered.

[ Admin: Delete ] Kortney "Shark" Davis / undashable / 8d 22h 55m 40s

Kortney sighed, flipping her hair over her right shoulder. she wished she could head off of the property and visit a salon. Just for a few hours. Then, she could dye her hair a dull gray or vibrant purple. The Davis girl detested her natural hot sauce colored hair. perhaps she would get herself a pedicure instead, the relaxation would sooth all of her stress away for a little while. But, all of that was only wishful thinking. Kortney wasn't going to be allowed anywhere, not until her psychiatrist deemed her trust-worthy again. "The Shark" knew it was a long, difficult road ahead of her; she didn't have anyone to get better for this time around.

When she first arrived at Stone Brook Rehabiliation Center, she had cosen to become healthy for her little sister, Kristin. But, two weeks ago when her mother gave her one of those rare visits, the woman had almost joyfully been the bearer of bad news. Kristin had been hit by a drunk motorcyclist. This was her suicide, her reason for wanting to go back to the ways of her exstacy addiction. She couldn't bear to look at anything, not even the pictures she had of the little eleven year old girl.

~. ~. ~. ~. ~. ~. ~. ~.

"The Shark" left the chair in a huff, as if it had suddenly caught on fire. She ditched her artwork in the pile, heading to the kitchen to dish out revolting meals. Kortney had never been one for cafeteria food. Southern meals were always the best, filled with grease that would ooze out of one's pores. When she was a teenager she would gorge on the fattening food and barely half an hour later she would shove fingers down her throat to regurgiate it all back up. In her adolescent mind, if she had been fat once, she would continue to be fat until the day she died. Six months of this place had finally gotten her to believe she wasn't obese, though a few tendencies came back upon the occasion. No one was perfect and the workers didn't expect her to be.

Once she approached the kitchen, she sniffed the air and nearly puked where she stood. It was cheap ravioli that came from cans. All of their dishes came from a can or a box. Even the milk came to this place dehydrated into powder and packaged into large cylinders. But, she couldn't stomach the fake italian or hispanic food. With Italian grandparents on one side and Spanish heritage on the other, she shouldn't be expected to. Yet, the center tortured her with the scents of such nasty meals.

Kortney tied on her apron then washed her hands. Mentally, she sang her abc's to ensure herself sanitary before touching any of the items to be served. One of the males made a crude joke, something about a girl's cleavage. She didn't deem it at all humorous. Perhaps that was because she detested males that behaved in that sort of way. Then, she finally understood it to be about herself, and what he wished to do. She felt faint and grabbed onto a railing. Thankfully, they left into the back to cook the so-called nourishment for the ones up front to serve. Once she could no longer hear their voices, she gained back her strength.

She stood up at the front and smiled at the soon-to-be middle aged woman coming through the line. She deposted the serving of baked, soggy, meat-filled pastries onto the woman's plate before moving onto the next customer, smiling at them all.

[ Admin: Delete ] Kortney "Shark" Davis / undashable / 11d 1h 25m 59s

Kortney watched the patients talk about their pictures. She had been here for so long; she didn't understand why she still had to participate in these trivial matters. Sure, she had a relapse, but who was perfect? Kortney wasn't. If she had been she wouldn't be in this Hell-Hole.

She looked down at her green construction paper, scowling. Hers might be more attractive than the efforts here, for they didn't care for their product of crayons, but that didn't mean she was proud of what had gotten her here. She knew she could give them so much better if only she had the supplies.

The esctacy addict remembered her first month here. She had created masterpiece after masterpiece, all filled with rage from the withdrawal she had been going through. It had helped her. Some of the more calm canvases winded up in the lobby or decorated her psychiatrist's walls. Most were stacked underneath her bed or on top of her side of the long dresser. After a while, she had run out of room to store them. Now, she couldn't bear to look at the majority of them. They reminded her too closely of her recently passed little sister.

She stood, straightening her clothes before stepping in front of her peers. "Hello, my name is 'Shark' and I drew my mother." Kortney held the paper out for the people to view. It was pop art, for a detailed drawing would have been more difficult than her pounding head and naucious stomach could handle. "All I can remember of my father was that he traveled, because he was a pilot, and that he was a horrible man. My mother talked about him constantly. She kept telling me how bad he was and that I was just like him."

[ Admin: Delete ] Kortney "Shark" Davis / undashable / 22d 7h 19m

Whatever Kortney was currently lying on was hard, almost unbearingly so. It was more uncomfortable than the floor of the bathroom back in her mother's house in New York. Her eyelids were too heavy to open. Kortney's body felt as if it was drenched in sweat, utterly soaked to the bone. She wasn't able to tell what was up from what was down. All she knew was that whoever was in the next room was horrifically loud. And, dear lord! The lights were impossibly bright, shining through her closed eyelids with the pink tint of blood.

Was this Hell? Kortney wouldn't doubt that her suicide attempt had been successful and that an eternity living in this place would be her punishment. No, this was 'Stone Brook Rehablilitation Center'. This was even worse.

"Hello lovely, such a shame to see ya back down here again." The southern nurse began to hum a little tune, completely tonedeaf. Even though the horrible voice the woman had sounded worse than nails on a chalkboard, Kortney could recognize the piece of music. It was a song about slvaery, asking the good lord to send Jesus down to earth to take them away in his royal chariot. Maybe God would send all the white men down into Hell to pay for the sins they had committed. Maybe it was all simply hope to keep them from breaking into insanity.

Possibly, it was the thought of religion that made her sick to her stomach. Or, it could be the fact that esctacy always left her nacious. But, nonetheless, she tilted to the side and regurgitated upon the petite woman's new sandals. It cuased the lady to go into a frenzy of sorts; tossed cookies could do that to a person. It wasn't until Kortney began to dry heave that she stopped being so sporadic. Nurse Lavender pulled Kortney's bright red hair out of the way. Another medical assistand came into the room, a male. He must be new. "Yes, Mrs. Lavender?"

"Get little Kortney some water. Poor thing." The middle-aged woman had a soft heart, especially for Kortney. They began in this place on the same day. They made it through the center this far, an attempted over-dose wouldn't stop them from continuing on together. The cute boy ran off, leaving Kortney at the mercy of such a caring woman.

"Sorry, Mrs. Lavender."

The lady waved it off, smiling fondly at the twenty-four year old. "Miss Davis, you are just too sweet. Shoes can be washed. And just how many times do I have to tell ya? Call me 'Alexandra'. We're practically family."

If this is what 'family' is, Kortney's mother had gotten the wrong memo.

Here's A Purdy!Coloring Time! Yay!
Kortney glared at the to-do list. Color? She had to fucking color? She had gotten back from the infirmary not two hours ago and they informed her that she was required to color? What was wrong with these people? Had they lost their damn minds? She was already feeling nauseous and she hadn't smelt the Crayolas yet! God, someone needed to strike her dead. Finish her attempt from two days ago. Please.

She grabbed markers and a few sheets of paper. An older woman patted the seat next to her, requesting Kortney's company. She smiled, taking the chance to excuse herself from sitting next to one of the obnoxious males. Boys could be so immature with their crude language and perverse behavior. The woman began to chatter on about the visit her son paid her yesterday. Welcoming the idle conversation, she conversed right back as she sketched out sloppy lines. It wasn't the best artwork she had ever created, but she hadn't been given acrylics to work with, nor a canvas. Hell, even a charcoal would do. Markers were nearly impossible to shade with well.

God, what she would gladly give for a half-decent paint-set.

[ Admin: Delete ] Kortney "Shark" Davis / undashable / 30d 4h 53m 5s

Ravioli. Lovely. Elias hated ravioli with a passion. Especially that sloppy, salty tinned kind that Stone Brook so doted upon. They charged such an inordinate amount of money for the treatment they provided, and yet when mealtimes came, all they could lay out was tinned ravioli, cheap fries and other greasy, disgusting foods. Oh, he was generally not averse to the odd fatty meal or two - he was a growing boy after all, but the fact that they were dining upon a never-ending stream of processed muck could turn even his iron-clad, kevlar-lined stomach. He considered skipping lunch, especially in light of the fact that he had just had bathroom clean-up duty, but hunger forbade it. In fact, hunger squalled and gnawed at his insides, and Elias had never been one to ignore his vices. He could only be thankful that there was no alcohol on the menu, never any alcohol on the menu. Not any white-wine sauces or brandy-cakes, because they would find him diving head-first into the vats to get a taste, a simple inkling of sharp, cutting taste of alcohol rasping over his tongue and clawing down his throat, before the quiet swimming sensation and eventually peace.

Apparently, that was his entire problem. He couldn't control his own swings of mood, and turned to impractical means to stabilise them. Gambling to snatch him out of depression, alcohol to snatch him out of the sick, sweaty panic of debt and losing it all. He was given to twitching sometimes, his hands in need of something to do, apart from scrubbing up spilled urine, and his mind in need of something more numbing than wailing poor quality songs from Eurovision. However, nothing was forthcoming, so he simply slouched into the queue for lunch, a dour expression on his face and an irritable lilt to his shoulders.

He ambled through the line, waiting until he got to the serving hatch, where an equally dispirited young woman lurked, weilding a ladle like a lethal weapon as she slopped the noxious gunk onto their plates. He took up a plastic plate and plastic utensils, half-aware of his actions as his stomach both rebelled and appealed towards the vat of ravioli she was doling out from. She looked no more a fan of the food than he, and even less content about her kitchen duties, but was mustering through with a brave face and a polite smile. He knew she might not take kindly to his own particular brand of humour, or the cheeky smile that limped across his face, but he tried his charm anyway, if only to brighten her day for a mere second.
"It looks bad, but it could be worse. You could have bathroom duty." He chuckled at her as he held his plate out for his portion of pap, ignoring the glares of others waiting in line.

OOC: My apologies, but my writing is going downhill.

[ Admin: Delete ] Elias Gynn / AilaMandragoran / 10d 4h 19m 1s

Elias shifted about in discomfort, staring down periodically at the crude drawing of his grandmother, and cursed himself for not picking someone more normal - his mother, or an aunt or uncle. Who let their grandmother, who couldn't even use the toilet without help, rule their family? Respect for the aged was all well and good, but one didn't let a cantankerous old bird with a walking stick and nicotine stained fingers rule the entire family. It was just stupid. Nonetheless, the old woman had done just that, if only because his mother felt some inclement of guilt at neglecting her own mother in old age, and so gave into the demands of her ex-husband's mother. Some of the time. Elias himself had only given into her because she looked so miserable when she thought no-one was looking - faded, sunken in, like a creme brulee left in the oven too long. He shuffled slightly to the right, and then slightly to the left, glancing up guiltily when Linda Lynn called his name. Heck, he'd not been paying the proper dutiful attention when the others had spoken. Sure, he'd heard what they said, and it probably lingered somewhere in the folds of his brain, but he'd not given them the attention they deserved. He was too embarrassed. Emotion and confessional wasn't his thing, it really wasn't. He wanted to shrug his shoulders uncomfortably and duck his head. He didn't get it. What was this need for baring the soul in a group? Maybe it was his upbringing - it had been undramatic, prosaic, normal. There had been no screaming blow-outs, no weeping heart-to-hearts. You just got on with it.

Elias rubbed his nose, and blinked. "Uh, well. Something my addiction influenced me to do? Sure...I used to have a job, I was a copyeditor, for a magazine, you know. It wasn't bad pay, but I used to take it all and go down to the horse-races. One time I told my boss that my Grandmother had broken her hip, and I needed an advance on my salary to pay for her operation." He fiddled slightly with the edge of his paper, accidentally tearing off a little corner. The ripping noise was loud in the silence, and he jumped slightly. Rolling the little scrap around in his fingers, he scowled at it. His blue eyes staring down at the little green ball of construction paper as though he could find the rest of the words needed in there. "'Course, that was all bullshit. I took the money, went down to the gambling place. I don't even remember the damn name, there's so many. I don't remember what I bet on, what horse, what dog. What does it matter?"

Elias flicked the little ball of paper away from himself and flipped the paper around for them all to see. Holding it out between his long fingers for them all to gawk at.
"I drew my Grandma. She wasn't exactly the dominant one of the family - she was just the one who always got her way. I guess it's not the normal thing - she wasn't the breadwinner, and we weren't frightened of her. Hell, she couldn't even stand up without a stick." He cleared his throat. "I guess we just lived our lives around her when I was a kid, so she was the dominant member - she ruled from her armchair like a little Hitler." He chuckled weakly at his own joke and let the piece of paper flop onto his lap, leaning back against his chair and hoping he wouldn't be asked to speak again.

[ Admin: Delete ] Elias Gynn / AilaMandragoran / 18d 10h 52m 44s

Waterloo, Waterloo...da, da, da, da something be with you... Singing the half-remembered words to the Abba song in his head helped to keep the movements of the scrubbing brush at a good pace. His repertoire included renditions of Bob Marley, Bette Midler, Madonna and other mainstream 'classics'. It was the only thing keeping him sane after two months of scrubbing toilets, chirping about his life to people who didn't give a damn, and freezing his nuts off in chilly rooms. This place was like the society for the living dead - people just drifted past each other - some haggard, some twitching, some staring into space like they were zombies or that guy that Robert DeNiro plays in Awakenings. Whenever he tried to strike up conversation, he either got a blank stare or a cold shoulder. So, could he blamed if he wanted to sing cheesy songs in sanctity of his mind whilst he scrubbed other people's bodily wastes off this tile floor? And could he penalized for launching into the song at full volume when his bathroom buddy left?
"WATERLOO! WATERLOO! DA NA NA NA NA! WATERLOO! WATERLO-"
"Elias, are you alright?" It was a female voice, and it entered the bathroom accompanied by the creaky swing of a door and the padding of "sensible" shoes. "I heard you shrieking..." It was one of the counsellors, Marie.
"Hey! I was singing, not shrieking!"
"Oh..." An embarrassed silence. "Well, are you alright?" The question seemed rather half-hearted this time around, so Elias answered with all the sincerety it deserved.
"I'm elbow-deep in cack and piss, and I'm shrieking Abba songs. Normally that would be an indication of insanity...but as it happens I'm cleaning one of the toilets and I happen to like bad music. Wanna let me get on with my job...or do you want to do it?"
Sensible shoes clattered out of the room, with a parting shot to remind him of Group. He groaned pitifully, extracting his rubber incased arms from the Toilet of Doom. They make me clean up poo, then make me sit and discuss my horrible home life, which wasn't so horrible. Aaand...then I look like a prick because I have no reason for my problems like all the others. I wasn't neglected, much. I wasn't beaten, starved, abused or forced to sit and watch endless seasons of Gilmore Girls... Guess I'm just a shiftless layabout who likes losing money and sucking on vodka bottles.

Two months in this place and they still obviously didn't feel like they had cured him. Granted, the sly guilty bet he made with some unsuspecting fool who didn't know his problem did mean he wasn't on the wagon, as it were. At least he had been able to stay away from alcohol, though. It wasn't easy to get alcohol into Stone Brook. Unless you wanted someone to act as your "drug-mule" of sorts. Seriously, though, the bottles wouldyon have to be those tiny aeroplane ones and it just wasn't worth it.
Stripping the foul-smelling gloves from his arms, Elias tossed them into the bin, hurrying to douse his arms with hot water and lashings of soap. This was truly the foulest job out of the entire clinic, and he was priveliged to have it, apparently. In all honesty, he'd rather be confined to his room, reading a book or counting how many cracks there were in the ceiling plaster. But, of course not. He held the dubious honour of cleaning up the near-misses and complete misses of his fellow patients. Smirking, he dried his hands on a paper towel, tossing it into the bin with the gloves and leaving the "office" behind. At least it reinforced the old adage "Everybody's shit stinks."
Whistling, -Waterloo again- he stripped out of his dirty clothes and slouched into something better suited for pouring out his lifestory - essentially, a clean version of his earlier clothing. The only vanity he claimed was the gauge in his ear. A favourite pasttime of old was sticking his finger through the great hole it made and waggling it at his mother and grandmother to disgust and amuse them. The joke didn't go do down so well here. It earned him a grimace at best.


***


"Draw the dominant member of your family." He drawled out the instruction in a bored monotone. It was as trite as anything he'd done in kindergarten and beyond. Were they going to make him draw a family tree and bring in his grandmother to discuss the War next? Slumping into a seat in front of a sheet of ugly green paper , he twirled the pen indolently in his fingers. Frowning. Who was the dominant member of his family? Was there a dominant member of his family? Each one of them was so disparate that it barely made sense to consider one dominant above another. His grandmother ruled like a Duchess from her annexe, demanding endless attention and half ignored by his mother. His mother nagged and groused and was largely ignored by him. Did that make him the most dominant, since he ignored the ignorer? "Be prepared to discuss..." Elias snorted to himself. Always with the discussion.
With a few desultory strokes of a thick marker pen, he etched out a crude drawing of his grandmother, sitting in her crusty old chair, wearing dirty slippers and with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth. Oh, Nana.
He gathered up the piece of paper and slouched into the Group room, noticing with mild discomfort that he was the last one to arrive. A quick scan evidenced a number of girls in the room, and two others of the male persuasion. It was like when you wandered into a classroom and had to pick somebody to sit next to. Ordinarily he would have edged in at the back, but that wasn't really an option. Instead he edged over to the black haired man with the rich-boy look about him and took a seat one chair away. He didn't however, try to breach the walls of silence with conversation, as the woman who was supposedly running this group session had an eyebrow raised at him, likely for being late. Tempting as it was to shrug and say What? I was cleaning up shit., he reined his smart mouth in and tapped his paper impatiently. He wanted to get this over with and go lie on his bed some more. He was sure he'd miscounted those cracks in the ceiling.

Sorry this has taken so long to be posted - I didn't have much internet access over the weekend.
Alia
  Melodies&Desires. / SincerelyLily / 9y 116d 17h 16m 41s

Online, can be anyone. The person you spend all your time talking to, can be someone you wouldn't think twice about getting to know in real life. Westchester Highschool has been trying to break down the social barriers. Their solution? Getting students to interact online, without knowing who they're talking to. They hope students will see, that people shouldn't be judged by who they are on the outside, but on the inside.
Things start working out fine, but soon S E C R E T S are thrown out--and once things hit the net, there's no stopping it.
Will Westchester be thrown into chaos?
Or will these students look behind the exterior?
What the heck is this about?
Basically, this is a thread that revolves around highschool students who join a school website. They fall in love, hate, and secrets come out.

Don't have an account? Sign up!

  • ES Username: [Full username please]
  • MH Username: [6-10 characters]
  • Name: [First and Last--Middle *Optional*]
  • Age: [14-18]
  • Class: [Freshmen,Sophomore,etc.]
  • Gender: [No limits.]
  • Sexuality: [Anything/Everything accepted.]
  • Clique: [Jock, Cheerleader, Thespian,etc]
  • Secret: [Be diverse, everyone doesn't have to be abused etc.]

Members Online!
LaVieVenice
ES Username: [SincerelyLily]
Name: Venice Miroux
Age: Sixteen
Class: Junior
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Bisexual
Clique: Thespian
Secret: Is pregnant, and thinking of getting an abortion.
Site/Thread Rules
Lets keep them simple and sweet.
Pictures; Real pictures - photography like. No celebrities though and no emo/scene pictures. We can chill it with those. Things like 'no exposing' pictures should be common sense. Also, I'm picky, so I'll kindly ask you to change a picture. And please make sure your picture matches your character.
Romance; Romance is alright, but no love at first sight. Also, falling in love isn't a MAJOR priority. The roleplay is all about interaction, and it's best not to focus on only one character. Along with romance, that means no cyber anywhere in the thread or on the site.
On the note of romance and such, keep in mind this is a MATURE roleplay. If you can not handle cursing, mention of sex and drugs, and other activities, do not join this thread. . .
Violence; Yes violence, drama, and twists. No excess fighting or drama though. And, all twists should be ran and confirmed by me. Also, please keep the drama outside of the thread, if it doesn't deal with the plot.
Posting; Quality over Quantity. Minimum 2 decent paragraphs. Always! This means good grammar, spelling, and punctuation. Try your best to make sure this rule is followed, and use Word if you're not sure. I give you ONE WEEK to post. But- Don't rush the roleplay. Also, a 'duh' addition--No quitting or unexplained absences, tell me you're going to be gone for more than 3 days.
Questions; Please send questions [Here]. Do not flood the thread with questions, or information regarding the roleplay.
Aussi~ Along with these rules, basic ES rules are meant to be followed. If you are not familiar with them, please take the time to read them.
Nothing from this thread is to be reproduced with or without my permission. If this is broken, I will cyberly murder you.
  Venice Miroux / SincerelyLily / 9y 117d 12h 50m 34s
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