Realistic or Modern Grunge Is Not Dead

[Lutalica]

Rookie "Ro" Charleston


Rookie woke up to dozens of half-dressed partygoers scattered across the bar. Some were just waking up, but most of them were still passed out. Honestly, the night before was pretty much a blur. All she could recall in the long run was sex, booze, and a lot of Nirvana. I mean, it was New York, and parties like that happened on every block. Ro turned on her side with a slight groan and brushed her hand through her wild blonde hair. She had fallen asleep on the bar counter with a Jack Daniels beside her head and lipstick stains on her neck. With a smile, the young adult got up and made her way towards the door. In all honesty, the room looked like a mass murderer's Christmas came early. There were teens and young adults everywhere, and if you didn't know any better, you would have thought they were all dead. With a sigh of relief, Ro left the bar with as little noise as possible and escaped into the streets of New York.


The air was cold, crisp and had a nasty nip to it. "Welcome to New York." Ro muttered to herself as she zipped up her leather jacket. The blonde started walking down the sidewalk with a lit cigarette between her dark red stained lips. The sidewalk was bustling with hundreds of people. Some were talking on phones, listening to music, smoking, and even talking to themselves if you landed yourself on the wrong side of the street. Though it was Ro's home, her city, and she wouldn't change it for the world. With a sly smirk, Ro turned the corner into an alley and proceeded towards the back door of Hooters. Sadly, with all the partying Rookie got herself into, she had to be responsible at least some part of the day. She burnt out her cigarette and entered the building for yet another day at work.


(Will post Secret and Kian's post later on.)

​

 

[Coedy]

Dexter's head pounded like a bass drum, his eyes fluttering open to see what seemed like a serial killing. He gently pushed a girl or two off of himself before proceeding to grab onto the nearest tabletop, and pull himself up to hopefully stand on his own two feet. It took a minute or two for the room to stop spinning, but once it did, he began to make is way to the door. As his eyes fixed on the door, he noted a blonde and black blur walk out of the bar. He shrugged, and rubbed his eyes, hoping it would wake him up a little bit. When that failed, he had managed to stumble to the doorway, where is sturdy fingers grasped ahold of the door handle, and pulled the bulky door ajar. Dex yawned as he moved out of the door's massive hinges, glad that he hadn't pinched himself... again.


His hands dove inside his pockets as he began to walk onward down the busy streets of New York. He looked at the face of his old wrist watch and pressed his forehead with three fingers. "Three hours left." He mumbled to himself, before stopping at a cross walk, and pushing the little button on the pole. Dexter's fingers tinged against the metal pole as he waited for the little orange man to appear on the screen across of the road from him. His eyes slowly wandered back and forth as he watched the hustle and bustle of New York continue around him. he then began to wonder what would happen if something threw the economy off balance. Would the same-old-same-old be the same? Would it change? Only a tragedy could tell.


What seemed like a half hour went by before Dexter was able to make it safely across the street. As he hit the other sidewalk with his right foot, his pace began to decrease. He had no rush now; it was all just a walk to his apartment, where he would freshen up before his shift at a restaurant named "Bill's Backyard BBQ" began. Even though it smelled like death in the kitchen, that's where Dexter would be found for the next seven hours would be. But he didn't mind; anything that would pay him was good enough, until another job would come around with a better pay; then he would consider quitting Bill's. But he doubted that would happen; he was content with his life at the moment, and that's all that really mattered to him.


(I'll post Byron later)

 

[Rise]

Ryder woke up not so peacefully. He had a bit of a hangover and was sandwiched between two bodies, some man and woman on either side of him. Not again... He thought with a groan as he pulled their limbs off of him, getting up from the leather couch. Looking around as he thought where he was since he had no idea, he noted that he was in some bar. The thing with Ryder, when there was a party, he would be there, even though him drinking alcohol wasn't such a good idea. Experimentation was one of the side affects when he was inebriated, heavily.


He leaned over to his male partner and reached into his coat pocket, grabbing his wallet. He took out a wad of cash, stuffing it into his pocket, and tossed the wallet onto the couch. He tutted, shaking his head at the man who shouldn't have left so much money in his pocket when he was at a bar. Before he left, he said with a wink, "A real shame I'm not into guys, pet. You're pretty hot."


The cold air whipped around Ryder as he left the bar and walked to the edge of the sidewalk. He was only wearing a tight v-neck shirt, some grey jeans, and a pair of sneakers. He hailed down a taxi and got in, telling the driver the address of his home. Luckily, it was his day off from work. He mostly always planned accordingly.


"Keep the change," he said cheekily, throwing a couple bills that were more than necessary to pay the fare before opening the door and jumping out of the cab. He walked up to the hotel like he had the swagger of a king, enduring his pounding headache. His home was a room at some hotel, not a even a three star, but it kept the cold out. He never stayed long in one place ever since he turned eighteen. Who knows how long he'll be staying in the city of New York.

 

[Trignome]

It was an early Saturday morning, and most New York citizens were safe in their homes, sleeping away the booze of the previous night. But one young man was busy cutting. His knife was poised above the thin flesh and came down with a wet thud, his hands were stained in the juice, all he could see was red. As he stabbed with even more vigor, a worrisome thought came to his mind.


Tomatoes are poisonous.


Chernobog paused, staring down at the mutilated fruit he had on the cutting board. He’d planned to marinate the tomatoes before work, in preparation for dinner. But he certainly didn’t want to risk getting fruit poisoning. Well, the plant itself is a distant relative of nightshade, and though the fruit is safe, the remainder of the plant has low levels of toxin. It’s not really enough to kill a person unless large amounts of the plant are consumed. People eat tomatoes all the time, and they’re perfectly fine. Sighing, Chernobog continued to gouge out holes into his little victim’s juicy cavities. I’ll just have to risk it.


The poor tomato. Chernobog frowned at the slippery blade of his chopping knife as he finished draining the juices out of the fruit. Not only was it suffering from an identity crisis, it was also considered the black sheep of the family. Mother Belladonna was infuriated. “What do you mean, you scored the lowest on your toxicity exams? Your father and I are very disappointed in you, young man.” Tomato glowered at his mother’s venomous words. “Bah, what does it matter? He’s not even my real Dad. I know what you did with that banana, Mom. You fell for that stupid fruit, ‘cause he gave you your potassium fix. Thought you could hide it from the family, but you can’t hide it from me!” Belladonna’s leaves turned a hideous shade of puke green as her voice became frigid. “Pack your bags, Tomato, and leave this household at once. You are no longer my son.”


Chernobog patted the bowl of tomatoes on the counter. “It’s okay. Things will get better.” He paused. “Like, maybe you could ask out that cute strawberry at the bar…Really! You guys would make a great couple.” He slumped against the countertop, smearing his juiced fingers across the fax granite finish. “What am I doing? I need friends.” His words were smothered in the oppressive silence of his apartment. Giving a dejected glance at the glowing green display on his microwave, Chernobog spazzed, jumping up and scrapping the pile of tomato mush into the foods dispenser, flicking the switch. As the blades whirred inside the sink, he yanked the fridge open, shoved all the unused ingredients onto the top shelf, and kicked the door closed with his foot as he hastily dashed into the living room.


I’m going to be late. LATE! He rushed around, struggling to change into a clean pair of jeans as he brushed his teeth. Ah, yes. And before I forget…hopping over to the kitchen sink, Chernobog turned the foods dispenser off. He spit out the toothpaste froth and stumbled back into the living room, grabbing his suitcase and shoving his feet into his sneakers. As he burst outside of his apartment, he smiled and waved. “Goodbye! I'll be home soon.” Silence. Chernobog locked the door to his apartment and walked to the elevator, no longer smiling.

 

[Lacuna]

◊ Aurora Indigo ◊

​

Every little sound echoed and lingered in Rorrie's head. The sound of pin dropping was enough to make her wince with sheer pain. During times like these she doubted if the prior night of fun, filled with booze was really enough to make up for the horrendous feeling the morning after. She was sprawled out on the ratty old couch surrounded by empty containers from jello shots. Sleepily she looked around at them and couldn't help but think to herself, "Shit, how many did I have?" She couldn't recall anything from last night, her last memory was of some guy doing a body shot off of her. Although, she was happy that this time she woke up in the same clothing she arrived in, and not in a strangers bed. Rorrie wasn't one to sleep around, but booze always did funny things to her. With every sip of a drink her self control inched farther and farther away.


Her eyes flitted up from small, clear, plastic, containers too take a gander around the room. As she looked around small bits from the night before started to come back to her, but not enough to piece together anything. Lifting her petite and tired body up off the couch she stumbled a bit as she tried to find her footing. The walk to the door seemed to take forever. Every one of her steps had to be carefully taken to avoid stepping on any appendage of a person or the shards of broken glass that lay in messy pile next to the bar. Finally after slinking across the bar she reached the door and so carefully opened it, making sure not to make much noise.


When her beat up black Vans hit the New York pavement she felt like a vampire. Her immediate reaction was to shield herself from the blaring bright morning sun that was gleaming off the shinny buildings. Rorrie stood their for a moment as her eyes adjusted to the drastic change in lighting. Digging though her bag she pulled out her round sunglasses and promptly slipped them on to the bridge of her nose. After being in this situation multiple times before she finally got smart enough to pack a pair in her hangover kit. Sauntering down the street she could feel the judgmental eyes of passerby's glaring down on her little walk of shame. Her short legs couldn't carry her fast enough to her apartment. Luckily for her, her apartment was just a stones throw away from the bar.


Jogging up the front stairs of her apartment she quickly ducked inside alcove as she dug for her key. As her hand scrambled around inside the medium size purse panic started to set in. "Shit." She said under her breath. Her key's were gone. Rolling her head back, she let out a long sigh as she slid down the wall into a sitting position. The last thing she wanted to do was go back to the bar and have to rummage through the piles of crap to find her keys, but she knew that if she wanted the peace and solitude of an empty apartment to recoup in, that was her only option. Rorrie sat there with her head hung heavy in the palm of her hands. "Fan-fucking-tastic." She though to herself.

(( Posting Sawyer later~ ))
​

 

[Coedy]

Byron woke up with brutality, being shoved off by some douche who was somehow still asleep. Her eyes weren't allowing her to focus on the man who was leaving the bar. She noted the wallet that was thrown onto the bulky man next to her. Her pruned lips curled into a devious smirk as her hand slid to the wallet that was laying there. Byron opened the wallet, seeing as the person before had taken more than what was left, she took the rest, not caring if that was the man's last money, or if it wasn't. The faded green money slid into her safe-spot as she rose to her shaking feet. It was a normal feeling to her now; getting wasted was only part of the fun; which she would not be missing out on.


The clanking of her own heels was enough to give Byron a headache. Even though she hadn't even made it half way to the door, she stopped dead in her tracks, and removed her bright red heels. Out of luck, she was able to see the red lipstick smeared across the left side of her face. She dapped a napkin that she found on the floor in some kind of liquid, and proceeded to wipe away the bloody-red stain. Byron nodded to herself in the reflection from the bar door, and walked onward to the slightly chaotic city streets that she called her home. Walking barefooted down a busy city street was quite a danger with broken bottles(and dreams) scattered all over the places along with cigar and cigarette butts, as well as sticky gum that seemed to move.


Byron was a little more stable now that she was leaning against a street sign, but that wouldn't be too helpful once she started moving. Her eyes fixed upon the bright flashing lights that summoned her closer and closer until she couldn't stop. It got to the point where Byron wasn't able to stop herself from moving any faster or slower. That was, until she ran into a figure. Her feet took a handful of steps back before she could stop and look at who she had the pleasure of running into. It was a odd man, who seemed a little psychopathic. "Oh I'm sorry dear. Maybe next time I'll do it on purpose." she winked and let her finger tips brush over his shoulder before she walked on past him.


Byron chuckled to herself, moving hair from her eyes so she might actually see the sidewalk that she had chosen to walk on. Her body allowed a high-pitched noise to emerge from her being as she stopped to wipe the mascara from under her eyes away. Byron quickly moved her hand up to her mouth and then back down again before she walked up the several flights of stairs to get to her little room. She lived right off of the streets, in a little hotel/motel that had a staff that couldn't support their own families, even if they tried. But that's why Byron liked it; the motel reminded her of home.


(Phewww)

 

[Lacuna]

◊ Sawyer Elliot ◊

​

Rolling over, Sawyer's arm brushed against the smooth skin of another being. Immediately he shot straight up, panic taking over his toned body. This wasn't his bed and it was morning. That only meant one thing, he had to high tail it out of there fast before the chick woke up and thought they were in a relationship or some shit like that. Slowly he lifted himself to his feet and gathered his belongings. As he walked he slipped his pants and shirt on, but he didn't bother with his shoes. Those could be put on when he left the apartment. Doing one last look around the room he noticed the tousled heap of hair beginning to stir in the bed. That was his cue to run. Resembling a cartoon from the 90s, he quickly tip toed out of the room and into the hall.


Relief came over his body as soon as he heard the door click behind him, but his relief was short lived as he could make out the muffled and distant sounds of the girl shuffling around. At first her foot steps were distant and hardly audible, but they slowly got louder and louder as the seconds ticked by. Sawyer's body was frozen as he warily listened to her through the door. He knew he should be booking it right now, but he was afraid to make any noise to alarm her that he was just within arms reach. He could hear his heart beating faster and faster as her steps got closer. And as quickly as he had once shot out of bed, he was running down the hall. In the distance he heard her yell's, "Asshole!" A smirk came over his face as he jogged down the stairs. There was something about being called an obscene name that gave him a sense of satisfaction. He couldn't quite pin point why, but he liked to believe that it was because he was so good that they wanted more.


Sawyer slowed himself to a walk as his still bare feet hit the concrete, and stopped to sit on the bottom step of the stairs. Laughing to himself about the situation, he pulled his converse on paused for a moment as he sat there in the morning air. He had crazy mornings before, but this morning definitely landed in the top 5. Taking a a deep breath of the crisp morning air he headed off down the sidewalk. His eyes flickered around at his surroundings, trying to figure out where exactly he was. Judging from the abundance of colonial style apartment he figured he was just on the outskirts of downtown New York. Other than that, he was as lost as can be. It was a good thing he didn't have any plans for the day.

 

[Psychedelia]

Anastasia Vadoma

​

Ana opened her eyes slowly, one by one, and glanced over beside her. Her eyes widened slightly at the guy beside her before she slipped out of bed, her head pounding slightly. Making her way as quietly as possible into the bathroom, Ana took the aspirin down and popped a few in her mouth. She filled a small dixie cup with a bit of water and quickly brought it to her lips and took a few gulps to get the aspirin down. Ana shivered slightly upon tasting the sour residue left from the tablets being in her mouth. She had always hated that taste but never moved fast enough, on mornings like this anyway, to swallow them without the taste being left behind.


Tossing the empty cup in the small garbage beside the sink, Ana made her way out into the kitchen. She rubbed her eyes slightly and yawned as she stood in front of the fridge. Suddenly, she felt arms wrap around her from behind. Trying not to freak out, Ana tensed but quickly relaxed when she realized it probably wasn't someone trying to kill her... Probably. A male's voice began to speak from behind her but she quickly turned around and shook her head slightly, running a hand through her hair. "Don't you have somewhere to be?" Ana kept her gaze on him, hoping he would take the hint. But of course, he didn't. Smiling slightly, Ana unwrapped his arms from her and turned back to open the fridge. "Look, you have to go. I have to work. I'll see you around, I'm sure," she said, pulling the orange juice carton from the fridge and turning back to watch him leave.


Ana rolled her eyes as he shut the door angrily. She wandered to her cabinet to grab a cup and poured herself some orange juice. Ana chugged down the liquid before returning the rest to the fridge. She wasn't exactly hungry and she probably wouldn't be for hours. Ana rinsed the cup and put it in the dishwasher before wandering back to her bedroom. Now, she had to get ready for work; her least favorite part of the day aside from working. She truly didn't like her job at all but the pay was surprisingly good for a waitress so she made it work. Besides, it was actually pretty hard to find a job in New York, especially one you truly enjoyed. With the overflow of people steadily rising and rarely ever falling, you were in constant competition with even your current coworkers just to maintain your lame position.

 

[Sock]

Cook


Blue eyes slowly fluttered open, dilated pupils quickly contracting. Cook took in a deep, content breath, the bitter smell of alcohol and the retched tang of vomit made his nose curl. As Cook's sleep hazy mind came to its senses he quickly realized that, one he had no shirt on, two a new throbbing tattoo littered its way across his shoulder, and three his very empty wallet was thrown on his chest by some sn!tch in a pair of heels that delightfully woke him up. F*ckin' birds only in it for the mone-"Hey! The hell you doin' with my cash!" His raspy english accent was harsh even to his trained ears and he winced before stumbling onto his feet, a sharp spark of pain coming straight from his bum and up his spine, he cursed under his breath, "Not again." before quickly buttoning up his black jeans and hobbling, barefoot after the girl. He continued his little dance towards the door, each uneven step sparking a stinging pain in his...lower regions. By the time he reached the door mystery girl was gone, the door was closed and Cook was out of luck.


Cook let out a low sigh and let himself sink to the ground, swearing through the sparks of pain coming from his arse. Once finally seated Cook glared at the floor. Now, either that bird had a cøck that I didn't know about or I was involved in some freaky threesome with two f•cling wankers...sweet. A grin molded its way across Cooks face, his slightly crooked teeth exposed in the dimmed brightness of the room. He let out a slow laugh, verging on hysterical. "F*cking perfect." He whispered into the dead silent air, his head falling into his hands, heavy in his calloused fingers.





I'll write Sky and Ever's posts later.

 

[Psychedelia]

Preston Landry

​

Preston woke up to the sound of mumbling voices and harsh groans around him; not to mention his aching body. In all honesty, he kind of lived for this kind of thing but then again he didn't. He liked being out with people and enjoying life while he could but he wasn't big into drugs or alcohol like some others seemed to be. But, here he was, peeling himself up off the floor at a party as many other people were doing the same around him. Preston scoffed at himself as he cracked his back and headed for the door.


Exiting the home, Preston squinted his eyes and glanced around him. Unsure of where he was, he shrugged and made his was down the street. After several minutes and traveling multiple blocks, Preston was finally more aware of his surroundings. The buildings around him began to look more and more familiar. Now, he finally relaxed some but quickly tensed back up as he remembered he had work today. It was still a bit early so he made his way into a local cafe to order himself a coffee.


Wandering back out of the cafe, coffee in hand, Preston crossed the busy New York street to the other side where he worked. He paused just outside of the building to finish off his coffee. A few guys he worked with passed by, offering a gesture of their acknowledgement; usually a simple raise of the hand or a head nod was all anyone received. Preston finished off his coffee and tossed the empty cup into the metal trashcan they kept just outside the door in which they used to prop it open on hot days; days almost the opposite of today. He sighed, letting his eyes wander across the street, observing his surroundings once more, before making his way into the building for a long day of hard labor.

 

[pulpfiction]

Brandy Lamia Texas


Brandy woke up in only a Clash t-shirt and her underwear, under the sheets of an unknown bed. By now, she'd learned already to get used to unfamiliar sights like this. As she rolled over, the miasma of sweat and alcohol immediately clouded her nose, coming from what she suspected was the snoring guy beside her. She inspected his face and suddenly realized why she'd decided to go to his bed last night: he was quite a looker. Brandy had no plans to stay, though-- she never stayed. She lifted the guy's arm from on top of her and climbed quietly out of the bed, picked up the rest of her clothes and pulled them on, and finally; took a wad of cash from the bedside table. The guy was probably rich anyway, judging by the look of his bedroom; everything there looked extravagant. Fully clothed this time, she tiptoed out of the room and down the stairs, then out of his house and onto the streets of New York.


By the time the house was out of vision, Brandy was already late for work, but fortunately for her, her boss wasn't so fussy about things like actually going to work. She abruptly turned the corner and entered the shady cul-de-sac where the tattoo shop was located, and entered. Her boss, Kiane was there, sitting on a swivel chair with his shirt covering his face instead of his torso as he put his feet up on the desk. "Hey Kiane," greeted Brandy, but the only reply she got was an unappreciative grunt. "Just wanted to say I'm taking the day off, okay?" Another grunt, but followed with a wave of a hand, dismissing her. With a satisfied grin on her face, she exited the place and ended up back on the sidewalk again, where she lit a cigarette and took a drag.

 

[Coedy]

Dexter Ross Raider


"Good God Bill," Dexter rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his messy hair, which was most likely covered in grease and fat. "Could we be any more under-staffed?" he asked his boss, who was sitting in one of the barstools. As he looked up, his fingers continued the pulling and skinning of the chicken meat, as well as the beef, and the pork. Sure, he had rubber gloves on, but nothing would wash the stench out of his clothes. That was one of the downsides of his job; the stench that it allowed for him to bring home. After turning the grill on, throwing a slab or two of meat on the flat top, and opening up the vents, he walked out to the center of the big, open eating area. With the cart of napkins and utensils, he went to every table, placing a napkin, knife, fork, and spoon at every seat.


Dexter scratched the back of his neck and looked at the clock, then back down to the cart which was now only half empty. He shrugged and pushed the cart aside, knowing that the waiters would be able to supply the utensils when going to take orders. And with that, he walked back to the kitchen and grabbed his things. "I'll be back at around 1:00, Bill." he announced as he walked out of the back door, and started his way down the rough and tough city streets. His home wasn't too far away, but he swore that he was being weighed down by the stench of the bar-be-que. His worn out Vans padded down a little alleyway before coming out to the sidewalk that led to his apartment; just a little farther to go, and he'd be home.




Byron Rose Harvey


Byron hadn't heard the man chasing after her in the bar, she was completely oblivious to the entire situation, after all, she was already in her little abode. She'd taken a shower, and was standing in the middle of her bedroom, looking at her closet which could pass for a tornado victim. She didn't care, because she knew where everything was; it could stay that way for a while. Byron looked over her shoulder to reassure herself that the money she had previously 'taken' was still where she had placed it. Nodding her head, Byron looked back to her closet and walked up to it.


Sure, it took a few minutes, but Byron managed to pull out an old green t-shirt and blue jean shorts out of her mess of a closet. She looked at herself in the old, dingy mirror that hung alone on the wall that led to her kitchen. Byron yawned as she made her way to the bathroom, to try to cover up any new marks she had received on her body from the night before. There a few that were noticeable with the outfit of her chose, and of which she took the liberty of covering up. Byron walked out of the bathroom, bragging her hand bag, locking her door, and walking down the stairs to get back to the city streets.


She began her walk again, not really caring or noticing if she was receiving any looks from passersby. Byron chewed on the mint gum that she had given herself a moment earlier, trying to help with the stench of alcohol that was still lingering in her words. After a nice walk down a block or two, she was standing in front of her work. "Sugar Buzz" was an ice cream parlor, and was an easy place to work, and the tips were great. Byron walked into the parlor, and waved to her co-workers, and took a few strides into the back room. She received her apron, and proceeded to walk to the cash register, where she would stand for a good three hours.
​

 

[Trignome]

Chernobog leaned against the light post, waiting for the pedestrian crossing signal. He pressed the little button, again and again, though he knew this probably wouldn't make much of a difference. I bet the buttons don’t change the light any sooner, they’re here to give bored people something to do while the cars pass. But just for good measure, Chernobog jabbed at the button a few more times before making his way to the edge of the concrete walkway. I guess I have no choice. He took a single step forward and waited as the cars continued to rush by, then slowly, deliberately, began to walk across the street.


The cars that had been approaching from both sides had honked as soon as he’d taken the first step, but he ignored them. Nobody wants to be charged for murder, pedestrians get the right-of-way in traffic etiquette. Chernobog smiled to himself as he casually made his way to the other sidewalk, wondering why people always ran when they wanted to cross busy roads. Now see, that wouldn't give drivers enough time to react, so of course the risk of injury is high. If I go slowly, and make sure they can see me clearly, then they won’t hit me. As he reached the other side of the street, he turned and waved at the crowd that was still waiting for the walking signal. One of them flipped him the bird. Chernobog fluttered his fingers and laughed, “I love you too, bastard!” Still chuckling to himself, he continued on his way to work.


Standing outside the library, he prepared to enter his workplace, though he knew what he had was far from a legitimate job. ‘Work’ entailed a salary, labor for pay. What he did wasn't work. No, that’s not wholly accurate. I do make money from this, but it’s not why I’m doing it. Sighing, he interlocked his fingers, stretched his arms out in front of him and cracked his neck. Once he was relaxed, Chernobog walked up the stone steps and entered the building, the rich smell of old books and black coffee wafting around him in greeting. Making his way to a study table in the corner of the vast hall, where desks and people lined up in nearly limitless rows, he sat back in his chair and pulled out a notebook, a stack of flyers, and mail from his brief case. He glanced at his watch, and sighed. Not here yet. Selecting an unassuming, plain white envelope from the pile, Chernobog glanced over the P.O. box number in the upper left corner, then opened it and read the note inside.


The poet Emily Dickinson once said that her sensitivity was comparable to missing a layer of skin. Explain how this analogy is reflected in her poetry.


· Free-form thesis is preferred


· Minimum 4 body paragraphs; 3 sources each


· Must have counter argument


· Conclusion optional


· Submission date: September 23


½ grand up front. Bonus if its an ‘A’.


He cringed at the missing apostrophe in the last line of the letter as he pulled out the folded check from the envelope. He slipped the check and the rest of the mail into the inner pocket of his briefcase, then stood up and looked around the room. Still not here yet. I might as well start working now. Picking up the opened letter, Chernobog walked out of the study hall and entered the library’s catalog of non-fiction works. Emily Dickinson. I guess I’ll start with an anthology of her work, and maybe pull a few autobiographies…

 

[Lutalica]

Secret Willow Pierce




Will woke up with a soft smile. Her eyes danced around the room before finally coming to a stop at the circular window just across the way. It was still early. Maybe around seven or so as far as she could tell from the sun. A slight yawn passed through her lips and she rolled over on her arm. If there was one thing a girl like her could dream of, it would be sleep. She had been busy for two weeks trying to make sense of things. She had only moved to New York seven months ago, and her living situation wasn't exactly stable. It didn't have a skyline view or hoity-toity decorations any way, shape, or form. Will lived in a loft above 5th Avenue Chocolatier. So, in other words, the rent was a bitch. Twenty six hundred a month, and that didn't include any additional bills. Honestly, her life in New York wasn't as much fun as she expected, but the girl made the best of it, or at least tried to at least.




Will finally left her bedroom and sauntered off towards the small bathroom. The steam rolled through the bathroom while Will was sorting through her closet to grab a quick change of clothes. She wouldn't be doing much other than taking a walk with River and maybe even grabbing a quick lunch at Starbucks. Will simply gave a deep breath, loosened up a bit, and hopped into the hot shower.





After her time in the bathroom, Will stepped out dressed and refreshed. "River! Come here, love." she called as she walked into the living room. The grey and white ball of fur jumped off the sofa and ran in and out between Will's legs. "You're a turd." Will replied with a giggle. Before going to the door, Will grabbed the essentials. Phone, purse, flower crown, sunglasses, and most definitely a leash. "Now, who wants to go for a walk?" Will asked as she scrunched up River's pudgy little face. With a laugh, Will finally stepped out and started for the great outdoors, or in New York's case, the great crowded streets.


They didn't have much places to walk to. It was either stay on the sidewalk and get trampled or wander off on the backroads--but those things always led to the wrong side of town. Finally, Will wandered off to Central Park. It was the only place that wouldn't be so crowded on a nice day like this. With a sigh, the girl sat on the old wood bench and closed her eyes. Maybe the stress would all disappear like a magic act.


By one o'clock, Will made her way to Starbucks. In the city, the damn thing was practically on every corner. Besides, Will never thought the coffee shop was that good, I mean, after all, it's just another drink. River was simply trotting along; her little tail wagging with joy while walking down the sidewalk. They were nearing the big green sign until traffic blew right in front of them. "Dammit." Will finally said after crossing her arms to block the cold. Today would be longer than she thought. The girl simply slid down the light post and sat with River while traffic was blazing. Granted, sitting on the sidewalk in New York was a huge mistake. People had no earthly idea what might have been on those concrete slabs, but when you're tired and can hardly concentrate, a dirty sidewalk was the least of your worries.
​

 

[swampishpetrichor]

☪ Nuri Caesar ☪

​

Nuri was wearing bags under her eyes, a smug smirk, some scrapes and bruises occasionally showing up over her body, and dirty money in the deep pockets of her harem pants. She looked down at herself and shook her head in disapproval in her mind. Goddamn, it was cold, and she was only wearing something that would be good for the humid night before. It was an okay @Oasis [/center]

 

[Rise]

Once Ryder got to his room in the hotel, he took some aspirin with a glass of water and went to take a shower. He took off his clothes to see what damage he had sustained this time and looked at himself in the mirror. Only a couple of hickies along his collarbone and a bite mark on his lower abdomen. He laughed, shaking his head as he thought that it could be worse before continuing with his shower. Last night was probably interesting, like always.


After his shower, he left the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and was drying his hair with another towel as he left the bathroom. He went over to his open suitcase that sat on the floor next to the messy bed, never made ever since he got here, and picked out some underwear and socks, a white tank, a black hoodie, and some loose, grey sweatpants: a lazy outfit. Ryder finished drying himself off and put on his clothes.


As he put on his sneakers, he thought, "You know what helps a hangover... Ice cream!" He was soon out the door with his hood on over his head and his now fat wallet, thanks to the guy he awoke next to this morning, and key to his room in his pocket.


The ice cream parlor wasn't far from where Ryder stayed and was easy to get to on foot. He got there in fifteen minutes, hands stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie. He entered the parlor, Sugar Buzz if he recalled reading the sign, taking off his hood with a relieved sigh. He looked to the girl that was behind the cash register. She looked so familiar to him, yet he could not put a finger on it to why she would be. He couldn't deny that she was a beauty.


Ryder shrugged it off, his grey eyes twinkling and licking his lips. He slipped out his wallet, pulling out a twenty before pocketing it, and then walked over to the cash register, a smirk set on his lips and said, "Hey there, darling. Can I get some strawberry ice cream in a waffle cone?"

 

[Coedy]

Within the first five minutes of working, Byron saw everyone from a soccer-mom to a business man walk into the parlor. She was getting fed up with all of the looks she was getting from all of the old bastards who thought they could get a taste. If Byron hadn't been at work, someone would have already been sharkiesha'd. Her black hair hung below her shoulders in a low ponytail. Her eyes were focusing on the grey counter by the time the door had rung the bell for the a thousandth time, it felt like. Byron looked up from her deep concentration and up to the customers who were lining up nearly out of the door. Her hair was now partially hanging in front of her eyes, being that it was too short to fit into the ponytail that she had thrown her hair into.


Byron was shocked when someone sounded lively, her eyes darted to the source, and gave a smile as she saw the attractive man who was ordering his ice cream. Why did this man look so familiar? He wasn't like her clients, or anyone she's run into recently, but Byron was sure that she had seen him somewhere. Her eyes looked to his, giving a little wink as she finally decided to listen to his order. ""Large or medium?" She asked, totally referring to the waffle cone. Byron ran a hand through her messy hair and then picked up two cones in both hands. Her face giving a questionable expression. Her brow furrowed on one side, and the other raised higher and also gave a smirk.


"And I'm sorry, I feel like I should know you." Byron told the man, biting the corner of her lip as she waited for his cone size and response to her last question. And even if she didn't know him, she'd make it a point to know him. Byron kept her eyes on the man, enjoying the more than welcome change of scenery.


(Mentions :: @xSparrow )

 

[Lacuna]

◊ Aurora Indigo ◊

​

As she sat on the the stoop of her apartment the head ache raging inside her head grew stronger and stronger as the city started to wake up. With every honk of a car horn small shocks of pain seemed to vibrate through her skull. All she wanted was a long nap and Advil, not a long walk back to last night scene of the crime. Sitting there for a moment she mustered up all her strength to lift her tired and sore body to her feet. Feeling dizzy for split second she stood there blinking, trying to rid herself of the vertigo. Her feet padded down the side walk, making small pitter patter noises with every step.


Rorrie had always been light of her feet, it wasn't because of her small stature but because as a child her parents insisted that she became involved with dance. Her parents always expected great things out of her and dreamed of the day that they would see their baby girl performing in The Nutcracker. In all fairness she did fulfill their dream, just not in the way they had planned it, nor in the most graceful way. When she was 17 she was cast in the schools performance of The Nutcracker, but being the wild child that she was, she showed up mildly under the influence of a certain leafy substance. As she went on the stage began giggling and becoming distracted with her surroundings that she found herself pirouetting right off the stage. In a way that incident was a blessing in disguise, after that day her parents stopped having high hopes for their daughter.


The walk back to the bar was long and painful, as she passed by two men who appeared to be fighting about some beer, their loud shouts coursed through her head. Quickening her pace she raced back to the bar. The walk back wasn't as bad at the walk there, people weren't staring her down like she had just rolled out of some guys bed. They ignored her for the most part, probably thinking that she was some hippie or homeless. She didn't care either way.


As she opened up the door to the bar a wave of cool air came over her, sending a shiver down her spine. Since she had left the place had emptied out a lot, but it still looked like an utter mess. Her eyes scanned the room until she spotted some keys perched upon one of the bar stools. Almost running over to them she snatched them up and let out a sigh of relief as she recognize the key chains hanging off of it. Turning on her heel she high tailed it out of the bar and onto the street. A grumbling sound emanated from her stomach and she could feel it tossing and turning. She needed food.


Even though she was relatively knew to the city she knew there was only one place that was perfect for an early morning hangover meal, Scrambled. She headed off to the popular breakfast eatery with a sluggish walk.

◊ Sawyer Elliot ◊

​

The sunlight beat down Sawyers neck as he calmly strolled down the street. That was until he felt the brush of another person and a caress on his backside. This wasn't his first time dealing with pick pocketers, but none of this caliber. Normally it was some scrawny little guy who looked like he had spent to much time in the looney bin, but never a girl, let alone one who actually looked well groomed. He smirked as she passed him by and scolded him for being in the way. Not a moment later he quicken his pace and followed after her. She thought she was smart running off into the crowd, it wasn't a bad move, but there were better moves than that. He could make out her bobbing head among the crowded sidewalks, and he kept his eyes locked on her. As he slickly maneuvered his way through the crowd until he found himself staring down the back of her. [/color]





Raising his hand, he placed it on her shoulder as to stop her and turn her around. He cocked his head to the side and brought his lips close to her ear, "Did you really think a caress on the ass would go unnoticed?" A thin smile tugged on the corners of his lips as he spoke. From all his time hitting up girls at bars and night clubs he had his fair share of ladies trying to cop a feel. It never bothered it much since he did it as well.


Pursing his lips for a moment then he opened them to speak again, "You don't have to give the money back, I just want the wallet since it was gift." He knew how they worked, they took the money and whatever else was valuable to them and then ditched the wallet somewhere else.

Mentions:

@swampishpetrichor
​

 

[Rise]

Ryder gave a small chuckle as the girl took notice of his presence. "Poor girl must have been bored to death all day with this bore-fest..." He thought as he took a quick look around him at the people that were already sitting, enjoying their ice creams. When his gaze went back to her, he noticed the look on the familiar girl's face and assumed that he was familiar to her as well, causing him to purse his lips slightly. He watched her with amusement as she ran a hand through her hair and at the expressions that ran through her face. He loved that she smirked back at him; he could already tell what kind of girl she was.


"Medium," he answered, "I had an interesting night so I should go easy on the waffle cone... And about last night, maybe you were apart of it?" He looked into her eyes and kept eye contact, raising his eyebrows slightly and his smirk growing. Ryder hardly ever had shame when it came to mentioning his one night stands, but he felt like this girl wouldn't give him a hard time over it. Unlike the others.


"I'm Ryder by the way," he said as he stood straighter, giving her a bright full smile, "and I'm enchanted to meet you. Again."


mentions: @Coedy

 

[Psychedelia]

Anastasia Vadoma

​

After nearly an hour had gone by, Ana had managed to accomplish almost nothing. She didn't feel tired or anything of the sort but she simply did not want to go to work. Honestly, she wouldn't really care about losing this job all the much. She had already called off almost 12 times since she started four months ago but they had never really said much about it. Then again, her boss would usually let anyone off the hook as long as you flirted with him or let him cop a feel. Ana shook her head at the thought before taking out her phone and calling in to work.





"Hi, Stacie! It's Ana... No I'm-... Stacie, I just-... Would you just listen! ... Okay... I'm not coming in today but you probably already figured that out so just tell Frank and we'll both be on our merry way... Thanks, love." Ana ended the call, rolling her eyes slightly before shoving the phone into the back pocket of her jeans. She had hated Stacie ever since she started. Unless you wanted to gossip for hours, Stacie always had something ignorant to say with that repulsive, high-pitched voice of hers. Ana bit her lip at the thought and smiled to herself slightly. But she is hot, though. Ana chuckled to herself before pulling the shirt she had resting on her bed up over her head and adjusting it to wear she liked it. She glanced once more at her dresser, smirking at the shiny new objects she must of scored herself last night. It was just a bit of a hobby; stealing. Besides, how else would she be able to afford such a place?


Exiting her apartment, Ana glanced around the street, looking for anyone who seemed out of the ordinary. Or course, most people around here were so nobody really stuck out too much. Ana smiled at a man passing by who looked like he was in a hurry. Swiftly she walked around the back of him and to his front, glaring at the back of the broke man's head before tossing his empty wallet back at him and quickly making her way through traffic and across the street. Ana made her way to the doorway of a random cafe and she leaned gently against the wall, smiling at passing people who were slowly becoming nothing more than a blur.

Preston Landry

​

Preston sighed heavily. His work shift wasn't anywhere near done and he was already exhausted. He knew being an adult would be rough but he didn't know every single part of his daily life would be that way. Granted, he was the one who over-graciously accepted his current boss's offer to work for him at such a place. Now, he was definitely rethinking that decision. All he wanted to do right now was relax for awhile and maybe meet someone interesting for one who wouldn't steal all his hard-earned money or give him some kind of infection. Don't worry; that last part hasn't occurred... Yet. But it could in the future.


As time went by, Preston tried to keep himself busy by talking with his coworkers, though, none of them had much better lives to talk about. It was like they had the same conversations every day. Mike worked all day despite his back problems to support his cheating wife and their three children, Adam worked to support his drinking problem, and Lucas just worked because he actually enjoyed it; believe it or not. No matter why they chose to work here, they were all slowly draining themselves. At least the pay was pretty good... But that's the only good thing Preston could really say about it.

 

[Lutalica]

Kian Anthony Tate





Kian woke up early enough to ditch the scene, and by the scene, I mean the half naked chick that was sleeping in the bed. Though, to his surprise, he got a taste of his own damn medicine. The blonde was gone. "The player just got played." Kian said as he shook his head, staring at the empty bed. With a shrug, he got his pants on until hearing the front door unlock. "Oh, so you came back for more?" he said as he walked out into the living room only to see a girl--who was definitely not the one who ditched him--with widened eyes. "Who the fuck are you?" "Look, don't get your panties in a twist." Kian tried to calm her down, but considering she was practically hyperventilating, he decided it was best to go before the cops showed up. Kian grabbed the rest of his stuff and darted for the door.





It was bitter cold outside. He was still trying to put his All Time Low shirt on while he was walking down the side walk. Most of the bystanders looked at him with a raised eyebrow. He was practically flashing everyone with his bare chest, but it wasn't like they haven't seen something like that before, or worse considering this was New York and anything is a possibility. Kian finally managed to put on his black leather jacket and his black converse on before reaching the corner. His day wasn't going as well as he hoped for, and he was still trying to wrap his head around how his one night stand victim became the pro and managed to lure him into another woman's apartment. Though, he wasn't much of a thinker, and by now he had his day's worth of contemplating. He shrugged off the thought and just continued walking.


Kian passed a bar and sighed. He missed the party last night, and it was pretty obvious everyone was still trying to make it out of there without collapsing. A laugh passed through his lips and he just kept on going. There wasn't much to do around town--which was a big shocker considering it was the Big Apple. Why did they even call it that? Oh, wait, no, that involved more thinking.





(He will just be wandering for the time being considering I have no idea what to do with him.)
​

 

[Coedy]

Byron


Her heart fluttered as the made eye contact, however, she tried to remain on top of the task at hand. 'Medium strawberry in a waffle cone.' she repeated to herself, as she took the ice cream scooper and pushed through the hard ice cream in the containers that were all evenly placed in the cooler. Byron held the cone in her left hand, and plopped the ice cream into the center with her right hand, being careful to not spill it every where. To her own surprise, she was not dizzy, and the effects from the previous night had begun to fade away; making her life a whole lot easier. However, she did give out a yawn as she looked up again, surprised to see the eye contact was still in place, she returned the favor. Byron's eyes met his as she walked smoothly over to the register, and typed in the numbers.


Byron had to do a double take when he asked her about last night. "I might have been a part of your interesting night." she commented, in between handing the man his cone and telling him the total, which was "$3.50." She took a step back, breaking the eye contact that they had held for a good few minutes, and thought about how she could identify herself from the night before. "Well, I don't know if this helps any, but I woke up next to a guy with a bird tattoo, and a wallet thrown onto his chest.." she told him, seeing as he didn't have a problem with sharing about his one night stand. Regularly, Byron wouldn't tell her partners anything about her, but if they asked, she'd tell.


Upon hearing his name, a smirk grew into a smile. "Ryder, hm?" she repeated, still holding the cone out to him. "I'm Byron," she began with a smile, "the feeling is mutual." she explained to him, still holding her supple smile towards him. Byron leaned on the counter, still holding the waffle cone in her hand, with a napkin of course. She rolled her eyes as her hair had chosen to fall in front of her eyes once again, but this time, she could careless.


(Mentions :: @xSparrow)
​

 

[Rise]

Ryder bit his lip as he watched her scoop the strawberry ice cream and carefully place it in the waffle cone. "She even looks like a Goddess when she yawns..." He observed and smirked when she kept eye contact with him and walked over to the cash register with his waffle cone in hand in a way he liked to describe as graceful.


He then thought for a second when she started to talk about her morning and his eyes sparkled mischievously at the thought. "Ah, so it was her..."


"I think I may have woken up next to that same guy. I wonder if it was you or him that gave me a love bite down below..." He mused, pulling his hoodie and tank up to show the red mark that was on his lower abdomen and was sitting right above the hem of his sweatpants before pulling his hoodie down. "He shouldn't have left so much money in his pocket. Eh, karma's a b*tch though." He waved it off, not even feeling a bit of guilt for he had stolen worse from people.


"Byron, you say? Ah, such a strong name for a such a beautiful creature as yourself," he said. He thanked her when he noticed she was still holding out the cone, his lips curving upwards as she leaned in. He took the cone from her, his fingers touching hers for a second.


"Here, let me." He placed the twenty dollar bill down and brought his hand up to her hair. "Shouldn't let your hair get in the way of such gorgeous eyes." His fingers lightly touched her cheek for a moment before he dropped his hand to the twenty that was on the counter.


"I better let you work. Don't want you to get fired now," Ryder said as he noticed there was a line starting to form behind him. He slipped the twenty across the counter, close to her. Leaning in a bit, he said lowly, "Keep the change. I'll see you around, you beauty."


And with that he slipped his hood on and turned around, leaving the ice cream parlor. As he walked back home, licking his ice cream along the way, he thought with a smug smile, "Such a Gypsy..."


mentions: @Coedy

 

[Coedy]

Byron drummed her long fingers on the steel counter top as Ryder took his ice cream. She had nearly fallen asleep until he began to speak, her eyes raced up to meet his, and her ears perked up to make sure that she was hearing him right. She nearly felt her heart drop as she was shown the mark on his abdomen. She smirked; noticing the lipstick that was still smothered into it.


"Well, if it was me.." Byron began, but stopped with a wink. She listened to his strong voice, speak of the man he had woke up. Her head nodded gently, giggling as he waved off his stealing. "I'm pretty sure I cleaned up the scraps you left." She explained, speaking of the money he'd left behind. Her mind was still adjusting to the fact that she had met this extraordinary man last night without even knowing it.


Her lips formed a smile as he allowed himself to push her hair out of her eyes. Byron smirked and let out a light breath, as if she was relieved. She bit the bottom of her lips and looked up at Ryder, still in awe. This man was something else.


Her eyes looked down the line of three people who were behind Ryder, rolling her eyes sneakily, and looking back at him. "Thanks, handsome." She finally uttered, as she received the twenty from him. Te fact that he let her keep the change of 3.50 out of 20 was something that she thought was only in a movie, or story. She wished that she could have said something else to him, but as she looked up, he was gone.


"Goodbye Ryder." Byron said to him sweetly, as she walked back to the first person in line. 'Its just a fluke', she thought to herself as she asked the man for his order. He wasn't as nice as Ryder was, and they didn't even leave a tip. She smiled to the customers, living on the words shed heard from her chance encounter with Ryder.


She'd be seeing him again, she'd be making sure of it. Byron loved her gypsy side, she always knew what she wanted.


(Mentions :: @xSparrow)

 

[Sock]

Skylar





Skylar jolted awake in a cold sweat, the last thing he remembered was dancing at a party, bracketed in by two broad shouldered men and letting out a tipsy giggle, his jade toned eyes growing more and more dazed as he continued to drink the apple martini one of the men had given him. And now here he was, the bitter tang of morning breath and he assumed vomit lingering in his mouth, a confused, pained look on his face that you would assume one would have after gaining back foggy memories of the night before. The two men laid beside him, seemingly satisfied in theirselves that they managed to drug, and f*ck another giggly twink.


Sky quietly crawled out of the bed, cringing at the pain in his arse. He slipped his way out of the house after redressing into his clothes from the night prior, his unruly curls pulled back with a blue and red scarf. He walked down the street in silence, his boot clad toes tapping against the pavement. A small, sad chuckle crawled its way out of his throat, his deep, smooth voice carrying down the street "Came to New York a virgin, first party I go to I get drugged, and lose it." Sky was just muttering to himself, his left palm twitching with the instinct to run through his curls, instead he decided to tug on his headband-scarf, he was in the process of shifting the fabric when a feminine voice and the distinct smell of pot wafted through his nostrils.





"Well, thats a shame."


(The purple was Ever, I'll type hers up later.)