apolla
❛ it's only love, nobody dies ❜
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This section is for roleplays only.
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Please remember to credit artists when using works not your own.
Realistic or Modern Ships Haven =CS=
- Thread starter apolla
- Start date
apolla
❛ it's only love, nobody dies ❜
Stella Rhodes
"i'm so fancy"
nickname: Lala
age: 17
gender: female
sexuality: pansexual
west or east: east
codedbycrucialstar
Last edited:
hwayi
raindrops and roses
[div class=container][div class=navi][div class=bigborder][/div][div class=quote]❝
[/div]
[/div][div class=tabcon][div class=border1][/div][div class=border2][/div][div class=tab1][div class=scroll]
name irena velasquez
nickname gina
age 18
gender female
sexuality hetflex
west or east east
[/div][/div][div class=tab2 style=display:none][div class=scroll][/div][/div]
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[/div][div class=tab4 style=display:none][div class=scroll]
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⠀♡coded by uxie♡
Hope
you still like me❞[/div][div class=buttoncon][div class=button1]1.[/div][div class=button2]2.[/div][div class=button3]3.[/div][div class=button4]4.[/div][/div]
[/div][div class=tabcon][div class=border1][/div][div class=border2][/div][div class=tab1][div class=scroll]
basics.
name irena velasquez
nickname gina
age 18
gender female
sexuality hetflex
west or east east
appearance.
height 173cm
weight 55kg
build slender
hair colour chocolate brown
eye colour chocolate brown
faceclaim tashi rodriguez
body modifications helix piercings, lobe piercings
weight 55kg
build slender
hair colour chocolate brown
eye colour chocolate brown
faceclaim tashi rodriguez
body modifications helix piercings, lobe piercings
[/div][/div][div class=tab2 style=display:none][div class=scroll]
personality
[/div]likes.
dislikes.
[/div][/div][div class=tab3 style=display:none]
history
[/div]extra.
[/div][/div][div class=tab4 style=display:none][div class=scroll]
relationships.
[div class=rsborder]
[div class=rsname]name here[/div][div class=rsstatus]status: tba[/div][div class=rsbody][div class=rsscroll]Sed est tellus, iaculis id orci id, interdum tincidunt sapien. Cras eu enim imperdiet, convallis nibh vel, lacinia ex. Proin arcu metus, pellentesque sit amet aliquam consequat, iaculis nec nisi. Ut facilisis et ante ut commodo. Sed quam massa, eleifend id mi sodales, facilisis consequat enim. Cras lacinia neque sit amet nulla laoreet luctus. Aliquam eleifend pulvinar porttitor. Suspendisse potenti. Cras sapien dolor, suscipit et magna eu, blandit euismod tortor. Nam at tincidunt est, suscipit ullamcorper mauris. Nulla gravida malesuada felis, id dapibus ex pharetra vitae. Duis cursus dolor eget elit aliquet consequat. Suspendisse auctor fringilla gravida. Donec non tellus a nibh lacinia consequat. Nulla id consequat nunc, ac viverra nulla.[/div][/div]
[/div]
[div class=rsborder]
[div class=rsname]name here[/div][div class=rsstatus]status: tba[/div][div class=rsbody][div class=rsscroll]Sed est tellus, iaculis id orci id, interdum tincidunt sapien. Cras eu enim imperdiet, convallis nibh vel, lacinia ex. Proin arcu metus, pellentesque sit amet aliquam consequat, iaculis nec nisi. Ut facilisis et ante ut commodo. Sed quam massa, eleifend id mi sodales, facilisis consequat enim. Cras lacinia neque sit amet nulla laoreet luctus. Aliquam eleifend pulvinar porttitor. Suspendisse potenti. Cras sapien dolor, suscipit et magna eu, blandit euismod tortor. Nam at tincidunt est, suscipit ullamcorper mauris. Nulla gravida malesuada felis, id dapibus ex pharetra vitae. Duis cursus dolor eget elit aliquet consequat. Suspendisse auctor fringilla gravida. Donec non tellus a nibh lacinia consequat. Nulla id consequat nunc, ac viverra nulla.[/div][/div]
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MadiRaiCat
Wine Aunt
Liliana Atwood
Nickname: Lily, Tiger Lily (only by Miles)
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Heterosexual
West or East: West
Face Claim: Valerie Poxleitner
Hair/Eye Color: Dark brown / Chocolate brown
Height/Weight: 5'5" / 115 lbs
Body Type: Slim yet athletic
Tattoos/Piercings:
Nose ring, three studs in each ear
Theme Song: Savage by Lights
Extras: Drives a cherry red 1969 Pontiac GTO, has an orange cat named Hercules
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Heterosexual
West or East: West
Face Claim: Valerie Poxleitner
Hair/Eye Color: Dark brown / Chocolate brown
Height/Weight: 5'5" / 115 lbs
Body Type: Slim yet athletic
Tattoos/Piercings:
Theme Song: Savage by Lights
Extras: Drives a cherry red 1969 Pontiac GTO, has an orange cat named Hercules
Likes: Cars, drinking, smoking, skateboarding, drawing and art, all different types of tea, her cat Hercules
Dislikes: Most East-siders (except Miles), pity, traffic, authority figures, sweet desserts
Personality: Liliana isn't really the most happy-go-lucky person in the world. But given her life story, could you expect her to be? She's kind, protective, and sometimes even maternal towards her friends, and almost always puts the needs of others over her own. She's dependable, loyal, and generally a decent human being. However, that doesn't mean she has no dark side. If anyone were to insult or attack her friends, Lily has no problem stepping up and firing back. The moment Lily steps foot in the ring, she's focused, strategic, and cruel towards her opponents. It's almost as if she becomes a different person, her evil twin. A part of her livelihood sits on winning those fights, and Lily takes that very seriously.
Liliana doesn't really do well with sappy emotions. She doesn't know how to feel them, and therefore doesn't know how to respond to them either. She becomes a bit awkward if anyone expresses romantic interest in her, often times avoiding their words and either changing the subject or trying to find a way to exit the conversation. She honestly has no idea how to respond to compliments in general, let alone flirtations. So expect some silence or ignoring if you try.
Biography: Liliana spent the majority of her life in the downtrodden parts of Ships Haven, doing her best just to get by. Her father was an abusive drunk who couldn't keep a job to save his life. Her mother was a junkie who'd rather get high than spend time with or take care of her daughter. When she was about ten years old, Family Services finally caught on to what happened inside the Atwood household. Lily always figured her school teachers were the one to make the report as she often showed up to school covering bruises and lacking any money for food. So, they took her away and put her in a foster home.
Unfortunately, those didn't last very long either. The reality of a lot of foster homes is that they just want the government money that the children bring. The children are often neglected, and Lily fell into that same fate. She was bounced around from home to home, causing more and more trouble with every new location. She found a bit of solace in learning about cars, particular taking them apart and putting them back together again. It became a passion of hers, and she decided to make money doing it by working for the West side's resident chop shop ran by the gang. Stealing, parting, and selling cars for them made her enough money to move out of her foster home and into a two-bedroom apartment with trust fund kid Miles at the age of 17. Though despising him at first, the two became fast friends and are now very close.
As a teenager, Liliana swore she would never do drugs, seeing what they did to her mother. However, she found other vices in alcohol, cigarettes, and fighting. She learned a few things from trying to avoid her father's beatings, and the gang was quick to make sure she was well-versed in hand-to-hand combat. Lily was a quick learner, and soon became pretty decent at mixed martial arts. Practicing it was her way of getting out her anger without chaotic consequences. At the beginning of the school year, Lily had decided to take part in an underground fighting ring to build a savings account. She had dreams of going to college some day to study mechanical engineering.
Relationships: Best Friends with Miles, otherwise TBD
Writing Sample:
Dislikes: Most East-siders (except Miles), pity, traffic, authority figures, sweet desserts
Personality: Liliana isn't really the most happy-go-lucky person in the world. But given her life story, could you expect her to be? She's kind, protective, and sometimes even maternal towards her friends, and almost always puts the needs of others over her own. She's dependable, loyal, and generally a decent human being. However, that doesn't mean she has no dark side. If anyone were to insult or attack her friends, Lily has no problem stepping up and firing back. The moment Lily steps foot in the ring, she's focused, strategic, and cruel towards her opponents. It's almost as if she becomes a different person, her evil twin. A part of her livelihood sits on winning those fights, and Lily takes that very seriously.
Liliana doesn't really do well with sappy emotions. She doesn't know how to feel them, and therefore doesn't know how to respond to them either. She becomes a bit awkward if anyone expresses romantic interest in her, often times avoiding their words and either changing the subject or trying to find a way to exit the conversation. She honestly has no idea how to respond to compliments in general, let alone flirtations. So expect some silence or ignoring if you try.
Biography: Liliana spent the majority of her life in the downtrodden parts of Ships Haven, doing her best just to get by. Her father was an abusive drunk who couldn't keep a job to save his life. Her mother was a junkie who'd rather get high than spend time with or take care of her daughter. When she was about ten years old, Family Services finally caught on to what happened inside the Atwood household. Lily always figured her school teachers were the one to make the report as she often showed up to school covering bruises and lacking any money for food. So, they took her away and put her in a foster home.
Unfortunately, those didn't last very long either. The reality of a lot of foster homes is that they just want the government money that the children bring. The children are often neglected, and Lily fell into that same fate. She was bounced around from home to home, causing more and more trouble with every new location. She found a bit of solace in learning about cars, particular taking them apart and putting them back together again. It became a passion of hers, and she decided to make money doing it by working for the West side's resident chop shop ran by the gang. Stealing, parting, and selling cars for them made her enough money to move out of her foster home and into a two-bedroom apartment with trust fund kid Miles at the age of 17. Though despising him at first, the two became fast friends and are now very close.
As a teenager, Liliana swore she would never do drugs, seeing what they did to her mother. However, she found other vices in alcohol, cigarettes, and fighting. She learned a few things from trying to avoid her father's beatings, and the gang was quick to make sure she was well-versed in hand-to-hand combat. Lily was a quick learner, and soon became pretty decent at mixed martial arts. Practicing it was her way of getting out her anger without chaotic consequences. At the beginning of the school year, Lily had decided to take part in an underground fighting ring to build a savings account. She had dreams of going to college some day to study mechanical engineering.
Relationships: Best Friends with Miles, otherwise TBD
Writing Sample:
The room vibrated with such intensity that the dark-haired woman ducking behind the bar to grab a clean glass could feel it in her sternum. “Hurry up, bar wench, your tip is fading,” a gruff man clad in too much leather shouted from his place on an old wooden stool across the bar. He slurred his words and had a dazed glint in his eyes, sure signs of intoxication.
The woman rolled her eyes and bit her lip, forcing down any sharp comment wishing to come out. She wasn’t the type to take shit from people. But rent was due in a few days, and she needed all the tips she could get to make ends meet.
So, instead of commenting on the man’s pathetic lack of ability to hold his alcohol, she simply stood and filled the pilsner glass with a beautiful pale amber-colored liquid from the draft. Without a second thought, the bartender whipped around and slid the glass of beer down the bar to the man’s waiting hand without spilling a single drop. The drunk man happily took the ale, leaving the bar to rejoin his friends at a nearby billiards table.
The bartender leaned against the bar back, tilting her chin to her chest as she finally had a few seconds to rest for the first time since she had arrived nearly five hours earlier.
On Tap, the most popular hole-in-the-wall bar in the west side of Woodvale, Georgia, was nearly always busy. Local college students, nine-to-five workaholics, and local low-lifes alike congregated in the bar to grab a drink after a long, laborious day. With a happy hour that ran from 5:30 pm to the bar’s closing time at 2:00 am seven days a week, most people couldn’t say no to getting drunk on dollar drafts or six buck signature cocktails every night.
“Liliana, Lily, Tiger Lily, are you in there?” the bartender heard, her chocolate brown eyes widening as she realized she had been lost in her own thoughts for a bit too long. Quickly looking up, she scanned the bar for new customers or old ones that needed a new drink.
Her eyes followed the old-fashioned glass as it slid down the bar into the hand of an older balding man in a navy two-piece suit. Lily recognized him as one of her regulars, Mr. Townsend, a partner at the local law firm that specialized in self-defense and car accidents.
Lily offered him an apologetic smile and small wave. He nodded at her, and Lily knew he was accepting her apology even though his face held a stoic expression. Mr. Townsend raised his glass in appreciation at the person behind her, before venturing back to his table in the corner near a TV showing some sort of sport’s game on it.
Lily immediately spun around to where she had heard her name called from earlier. A man a few years older than her dried his hands with a dish towel before hopping up to sit on the bar back with a teasing grin.
“Zoning out again, are you? Don’t tell me you’ve been drinking on the job!” he accused, a light laugh escaping through his lips. His black chef’s jacket, which was covered in splashes of flour and food debris from the kitchen, revealed his heavily tattooed arms and a few black swirls of ink on his neck peaked out over its collar. Lily balled up a bar towel and chucked it at him, teasingly narrowing her eyes in faux anger.
“Says the guy who drinks more wine than he cooks with,” Lily snapped back, smiling as her brother easily caught the towel with another deep chuckle. The pair looked strikingly similar, with hair that was such a dark brown, it almost looked black, and eyes the color of rich milk chocolate. While Lily was of average height and slender, however, Nicolaus was tall and muscular.
The siblings were often found bantering sarcastically and getting on each other’s nerves. Nevertheless, Nicolaus was Lily’s partner in crime and overall best friend. They had been through thick and thin, and survived some terrible situations together that Lily locked away into the far reaches of her mind, trying not to remember. In all honesty, Lily wasn’t quite sure she would still be alive if she didn’t have her brother.
Nick looked as though he was about to say something witty and clever when Lily heard the sharp sound of glass against wood behind her. She spun on her heels in the direction of the sound, her brunette braid swinging around her shoulders. On the other side of the bar was the same leather-dressed man as earlier, returning for his fourth beer.
“Bar wench, another one! You’re not just paid to stand there and let us look at you, you know!” he shouted a bit too loudly, causing a few other bar patrons to turn and look. Normally when Lily had overtly rude customers, she would respond with biting remarks laced with enough venom to stop a man in his tracks.
But, before Lily had even thought of a response, Nick slid down from the bar back and around the counter to the burly man, a grimace of pure rage on his face. Lily knew her brother had an anger problem, especially when it came to people treating her poorly. It stemmed from their childhoods, and she couldn’t exactly blame him for it. She was used to this side of her brother, as were most of the regulars in the bar. They had seen his anger throughout the years Nick had worked there as a chef while Lily tended to the bar.
Nick slapped the man’s glass from the counter top so hard that it flew into the wall and shattered, thankfully missing any of the patrons of the bar. Her brother grabbed the drunkard by the collar, his brown eyes seeming to deepen in such anger that Lily could not distinguish his irises from his pupils.
Roughly, Nick yanked the man closer to him, his tattoos and calloused hands making him appear much more intimidating than Lily knew him to be. She realized then that the entire bar had gone silent, even the music had been cut, and all the customers stared at Nick and the other man. Embarrassed, Lily’s cheeks turn bright red, but her body felt stiff and she noticed she couldn’t move. Lily was literally paralyzed with anxiety.
“Don’t you ever talk to my sister like that again, or you will sincerely regret stepping foot into this place,” Nick whispered harshly. But the bar was so quiet that you could hear his voice throughout the entirety of the room.
After contemplating his next move for a moment, Lily could see Nick grind his teeth as he chose to be the bigger person instead of doing what he really wanted to do. Her brother released the man’s collar and shoved him roughly. After stumbling a few steps backward, the drunk man quickly scuttled back to his group of friends, and the atmosphere slowly returned to the normal bar scene.
Lily inhaled sharply, realizing she had been holding her breath anxiously throughout the entire situation. But before Lily could get a chance to speak to her brother, he stalked back through the swinging doors into the kitchen. Lily knew whenever Nick was angry, he cooked. He said that it helped take his mind off the matter and relax as he mentally followed the steps of a recipe.
Since they were young, Nick always had a need to protect Lily, even though she had told him a million times that she could take care of herself. He had taught her how to fight and kept her practiced through sparring matches. Somewhere, deep down, Lily knew that Nick still blamed himself for some of the things that had happened to her in the past. But she could never blame her brother for what wasn’t his fault.
It was then that the late shift bartender arrived. Her name was Kara, a sweet girl with dirty blonde hair and light blue eyes. She was always quiet, but Lily didn’t mind since she was often times quiet too. Liliana took Kara’s arrival as a cue that her shift was over, and quickly swept the shattered pilsner glass into a dust pan to dump into the trash can.
Right as she slung the familiar leather of her black jacket across her shoulders, she heard Kara’s soft voice from behind her. “I brought you a small gift. Nick told me your birthday is in a few days. It’s underneath the bar back.”
Lily turned towards Kara slightly surprised, though the expression was missed as Kara was already busy making drinks for a new group that had just entered that bar. Lily had never really considered them friends, mostly because their interactions were minimal.
She liked Kara nevertheless, and had always thought that the shy and delicate girl would make a good match for Nick. But, like herself, Nick didn’t think he was good enough to be in a relationship and therefore had a higher number of one-night-stands compared to past girlfriends.
Shrugging the thoughts away, Kara grabbed the paper sack from below the bar and peaked inside. An amber-colored liquid contained inside an intricate glass bottle with a purple ribbon tied around the neck sat inside. Lily grinned, immediately recognizing her favorite brand of scotch.
“Thanks, Kara! I’ll make sure to share with Nick when he gets off tonight,” Lily said, not waiting for a response before stuffing the bottle into her purse and slipping through the crowds of people to the door.
Once door slammed shut behind her, Lily couldn’t help but inhale deeply, the fresh air filling her lungs and giving her a new sense of peace. The once overly loud music had become a dull thud in the background, and Lily was relieved to be off work.
Though Kara was the only other bartender, she was a part-time employee and only worked a few four-hour shifts per week. Nevertheless, Lily appreciated the shorter shifts and the small breaks they gave her.
She glanced over to where a black Chevy Cobalt was parked at the back of the lot, the moonlight reflecting off it beautifully. Lily and Nick shared the car. With their current financial situation, the pair couldn’t afford to pay bills as well as have two car payments. So, they compromised, and on nights like tonight where their shifts differed, Lily would just walk home. After all, the path to their apartment was a straight shot through the city park, maybe two miles maximum.
Taking one last look at the neon signs decorating the front windows of the bar, Lily crossed the street and followed the sidewalk into grassy area that was Woodvale City Park. The trails were dimly lit, making the night time trek a bit less eerie.
Pulling the glass bottle from her purse, Lily cracked open the bottle of scotch and began sipping on it, hoping to build up some liquid courage lest she come upon any unfavorable people in the park. The scotch warmed her body from the inside out, causing Lily to smile at its delicious peaty flavor. The more she drank, the better she felt, putting the events of the night far behind her.
The cement path emerged into an open meadow with park benches, picnic tables, and charcoal grills people in town used for cookouts and get-togethers. There was a brightly colored plastic playground in the distance, and Lily half-debated going over to it. She had loved to hang upside-down from the monkey bars as a child, and wondered if she still could.
The thought was cut short when she noticed a man leaning on the railing of the stone bridge, peering down into the water. From this distance, she couldn’t make out his face, but his hair was long as was his scraggly beard. His clothes were dirty and tattered, and he wasn’t wearing any shoes.
For a moment, Lily was concerned he was some sort of serial killer, disposing of his latest kill in the river. Though she realized she may be thinking irrationally, Lily still paused, waiting for him to walk away so she could cross the bridge to her apartment.
The man began to stiffly climb up onto the stone railing, which was only about a foot wide. He stuck out his arms to keep his balance, staring down into the black water that rushed over a few large rocks about 50 feet below.
Lily immediately jogged towards the man, a pang of panic shooting through her body. When she was about 5 yards away, she stopped and shouted to the man, “Sir! Are you ok? It’s not safe to be standing on the railing like that.”
Startled, the man looked up at Lily with wide eyes, swaying a bit before regaining his balance. She could just make out his face in the dim light of the street lamps. He was older, maybe late 60s or early 70s. He wore glasses that had a crack in one lens, and his hair was unkempt and grey. Lily took a few steps closer, but stopped when the man simply shook his head. He gave her a sad smile before leaning forward and letting his body fall from the railing.
Liliana gasped, the bottle of scotch falling from her hand and shattering on the pavement. She instinctually began to sprint towards the bridge, but froze when a sickening crack sound filled the night air. Lily squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to let tears fall. Her heart began to race, and panic clawed its way up her throat, making it hard to breath. A thousand memories she had sworn to keep locked away flashed through her mind, slowly pulling her deeper into panic’s grip.
Succumbing to the panic, Lily felt dizzy, and soft fell to her knees. Her entire body felt cold, causing her to tug her leather jacket tighter around her body. After a few moments of paralyzing anxiety and panic, an image of a younger Nick popped into Lily’s head. “Remember, Tiger Lily,” he said, “slow your breathing and focus on something pretty around you.” When she first started experiencing panic attacks in her childhood, Nick had told her this as a way to calm herself. It was a method she used to that day.
Opening her eyes ever so slightly, Lily searched her surroundings for something, anything she could focus on. A cluster of Carolina lilies grew in a flower bed a few yards away, and Lily took a moment to admire their fiery-colored beauty. Her breathing began to calm and her heart began to slow, giving Lily back some control of her body.
Pulling herself to her feet, Lily slowly walked over to the bridge railing where she had last saw the man. Taking a deep, hesitant breath, Lily peered over the edge, searching for any signs of life in the rippling waters below. Aside from a smattering of blood on one of the rocks protruding from the water, she found nothing. Letting out the breath she had been holding, Lily pulled out her cell phone and quickly dialed.
“911, what is your emergency?”
“Hi, my name is Liliana Atwood,” Lily began, surprising herself with the steady, monotonous tone of her voice. “I just witnessed a man jump off the bridge in City Park, next to the playground on the Granite Trail,” she continued, turning to lean her back against the railing in sudden exhaustion.
“Alright ma’am. There are police officers and a rescue team in route to your location. Please stay on the line and remain on scene so you can give a statement of what you saw,” the operator responded.
“Okay,” Lily agreed before putting the phone on speaker and sitting it on the railing. She let out a sigh and dropped her chin to her chest, closing her eyes for a moment. A few moments later when she opened them, she noticed a small journal on the ground near her feet.
Lily knelt slowly, picking up the book in both hands. It was bound in black leather, and had yellowed pages that revealed its old age. The cover of the book was embossed with gold lettering, spelling, “The Secrets I Keep.” At first, Lily was scared to open the book, but the approaching police sirens gave her a sense of courage. Lily couldn’t help but flip through the first few pages.
The woman rolled her eyes and bit her lip, forcing down any sharp comment wishing to come out. She wasn’t the type to take shit from people. But rent was due in a few days, and she needed all the tips she could get to make ends meet.
So, instead of commenting on the man’s pathetic lack of ability to hold his alcohol, she simply stood and filled the pilsner glass with a beautiful pale amber-colored liquid from the draft. Without a second thought, the bartender whipped around and slid the glass of beer down the bar to the man’s waiting hand without spilling a single drop. The drunk man happily took the ale, leaving the bar to rejoin his friends at a nearby billiards table.
The bartender leaned against the bar back, tilting her chin to her chest as she finally had a few seconds to rest for the first time since she had arrived nearly five hours earlier.
On Tap, the most popular hole-in-the-wall bar in the west side of Woodvale, Georgia, was nearly always busy. Local college students, nine-to-five workaholics, and local low-lifes alike congregated in the bar to grab a drink after a long, laborious day. With a happy hour that ran from 5:30 pm to the bar’s closing time at 2:00 am seven days a week, most people couldn’t say no to getting drunk on dollar drafts or six buck signature cocktails every night.
“Liliana, Lily, Tiger Lily, are you in there?” the bartender heard, her chocolate brown eyes widening as she realized she had been lost in her own thoughts for a bit too long. Quickly looking up, she scanned the bar for new customers or old ones that needed a new drink.
Her eyes followed the old-fashioned glass as it slid down the bar into the hand of an older balding man in a navy two-piece suit. Lily recognized him as one of her regulars, Mr. Townsend, a partner at the local law firm that specialized in self-defense and car accidents.
Lily offered him an apologetic smile and small wave. He nodded at her, and Lily knew he was accepting her apology even though his face held a stoic expression. Mr. Townsend raised his glass in appreciation at the person behind her, before venturing back to his table in the corner near a TV showing some sort of sport’s game on it.
Lily immediately spun around to where she had heard her name called from earlier. A man a few years older than her dried his hands with a dish towel before hopping up to sit on the bar back with a teasing grin.
“Zoning out again, are you? Don’t tell me you’ve been drinking on the job!” he accused, a light laugh escaping through his lips. His black chef’s jacket, which was covered in splashes of flour and food debris from the kitchen, revealed his heavily tattooed arms and a few black swirls of ink on his neck peaked out over its collar. Lily balled up a bar towel and chucked it at him, teasingly narrowing her eyes in faux anger.
“Says the guy who drinks more wine than he cooks with,” Lily snapped back, smiling as her brother easily caught the towel with another deep chuckle. The pair looked strikingly similar, with hair that was such a dark brown, it almost looked black, and eyes the color of rich milk chocolate. While Lily was of average height and slender, however, Nicolaus was tall and muscular.
The siblings were often found bantering sarcastically and getting on each other’s nerves. Nevertheless, Nicolaus was Lily’s partner in crime and overall best friend. They had been through thick and thin, and survived some terrible situations together that Lily locked away into the far reaches of her mind, trying not to remember. In all honesty, Lily wasn’t quite sure she would still be alive if she didn’t have her brother.
Nick looked as though he was about to say something witty and clever when Lily heard the sharp sound of glass against wood behind her. She spun on her heels in the direction of the sound, her brunette braid swinging around her shoulders. On the other side of the bar was the same leather-dressed man as earlier, returning for his fourth beer.
“Bar wench, another one! You’re not just paid to stand there and let us look at you, you know!” he shouted a bit too loudly, causing a few other bar patrons to turn and look. Normally when Lily had overtly rude customers, she would respond with biting remarks laced with enough venom to stop a man in his tracks.
But, before Lily had even thought of a response, Nick slid down from the bar back and around the counter to the burly man, a grimace of pure rage on his face. Lily knew her brother had an anger problem, especially when it came to people treating her poorly. It stemmed from their childhoods, and she couldn’t exactly blame him for it. She was used to this side of her brother, as were most of the regulars in the bar. They had seen his anger throughout the years Nick had worked there as a chef while Lily tended to the bar.
Nick slapped the man’s glass from the counter top so hard that it flew into the wall and shattered, thankfully missing any of the patrons of the bar. Her brother grabbed the drunkard by the collar, his brown eyes seeming to deepen in such anger that Lily could not distinguish his irises from his pupils.
Roughly, Nick yanked the man closer to him, his tattoos and calloused hands making him appear much more intimidating than Lily knew him to be. She realized then that the entire bar had gone silent, even the music had been cut, and all the customers stared at Nick and the other man. Embarrassed, Lily’s cheeks turn bright red, but her body felt stiff and she noticed she couldn’t move. Lily was literally paralyzed with anxiety.
“Don’t you ever talk to my sister like that again, or you will sincerely regret stepping foot into this place,” Nick whispered harshly. But the bar was so quiet that you could hear his voice throughout the entirety of the room.
After contemplating his next move for a moment, Lily could see Nick grind his teeth as he chose to be the bigger person instead of doing what he really wanted to do. Her brother released the man’s collar and shoved him roughly. After stumbling a few steps backward, the drunk man quickly scuttled back to his group of friends, and the atmosphere slowly returned to the normal bar scene.
Lily inhaled sharply, realizing she had been holding her breath anxiously throughout the entire situation. But before Lily could get a chance to speak to her brother, he stalked back through the swinging doors into the kitchen. Lily knew whenever Nick was angry, he cooked. He said that it helped take his mind off the matter and relax as he mentally followed the steps of a recipe.
Since they were young, Nick always had a need to protect Lily, even though she had told him a million times that she could take care of herself. He had taught her how to fight and kept her practiced through sparring matches. Somewhere, deep down, Lily knew that Nick still blamed himself for some of the things that had happened to her in the past. But she could never blame her brother for what wasn’t his fault.
It was then that the late shift bartender arrived. Her name was Kara, a sweet girl with dirty blonde hair and light blue eyes. She was always quiet, but Lily didn’t mind since she was often times quiet too. Liliana took Kara’s arrival as a cue that her shift was over, and quickly swept the shattered pilsner glass into a dust pan to dump into the trash can.
Right as she slung the familiar leather of her black jacket across her shoulders, she heard Kara’s soft voice from behind her. “I brought you a small gift. Nick told me your birthday is in a few days. It’s underneath the bar back.”
Lily turned towards Kara slightly surprised, though the expression was missed as Kara was already busy making drinks for a new group that had just entered that bar. Lily had never really considered them friends, mostly because their interactions were minimal.
She liked Kara nevertheless, and had always thought that the shy and delicate girl would make a good match for Nick. But, like herself, Nick didn’t think he was good enough to be in a relationship and therefore had a higher number of one-night-stands compared to past girlfriends.
Shrugging the thoughts away, Kara grabbed the paper sack from below the bar and peaked inside. An amber-colored liquid contained inside an intricate glass bottle with a purple ribbon tied around the neck sat inside. Lily grinned, immediately recognizing her favorite brand of scotch.
“Thanks, Kara! I’ll make sure to share with Nick when he gets off tonight,” Lily said, not waiting for a response before stuffing the bottle into her purse and slipping through the crowds of people to the door.
Once door slammed shut behind her, Lily couldn’t help but inhale deeply, the fresh air filling her lungs and giving her a new sense of peace. The once overly loud music had become a dull thud in the background, and Lily was relieved to be off work.
Though Kara was the only other bartender, she was a part-time employee and only worked a few four-hour shifts per week. Nevertheless, Lily appreciated the shorter shifts and the small breaks they gave her.
She glanced over to where a black Chevy Cobalt was parked at the back of the lot, the moonlight reflecting off it beautifully. Lily and Nick shared the car. With their current financial situation, the pair couldn’t afford to pay bills as well as have two car payments. So, they compromised, and on nights like tonight where their shifts differed, Lily would just walk home. After all, the path to their apartment was a straight shot through the city park, maybe two miles maximum.
Taking one last look at the neon signs decorating the front windows of the bar, Lily crossed the street and followed the sidewalk into grassy area that was Woodvale City Park. The trails were dimly lit, making the night time trek a bit less eerie.
Pulling the glass bottle from her purse, Lily cracked open the bottle of scotch and began sipping on it, hoping to build up some liquid courage lest she come upon any unfavorable people in the park. The scotch warmed her body from the inside out, causing Lily to smile at its delicious peaty flavor. The more she drank, the better she felt, putting the events of the night far behind her.
The cement path emerged into an open meadow with park benches, picnic tables, and charcoal grills people in town used for cookouts and get-togethers. There was a brightly colored plastic playground in the distance, and Lily half-debated going over to it. She had loved to hang upside-down from the monkey bars as a child, and wondered if she still could.
The thought was cut short when she noticed a man leaning on the railing of the stone bridge, peering down into the water. From this distance, she couldn’t make out his face, but his hair was long as was his scraggly beard. His clothes were dirty and tattered, and he wasn’t wearing any shoes.
For a moment, Lily was concerned he was some sort of serial killer, disposing of his latest kill in the river. Though she realized she may be thinking irrationally, Lily still paused, waiting for him to walk away so she could cross the bridge to her apartment.
The man began to stiffly climb up onto the stone railing, which was only about a foot wide. He stuck out his arms to keep his balance, staring down into the black water that rushed over a few large rocks about 50 feet below.
Lily immediately jogged towards the man, a pang of panic shooting through her body. When she was about 5 yards away, she stopped and shouted to the man, “Sir! Are you ok? It’s not safe to be standing on the railing like that.”
Startled, the man looked up at Lily with wide eyes, swaying a bit before regaining his balance. She could just make out his face in the dim light of the street lamps. He was older, maybe late 60s or early 70s. He wore glasses that had a crack in one lens, and his hair was unkempt and grey. Lily took a few steps closer, but stopped when the man simply shook his head. He gave her a sad smile before leaning forward and letting his body fall from the railing.
Liliana gasped, the bottle of scotch falling from her hand and shattering on the pavement. She instinctually began to sprint towards the bridge, but froze when a sickening crack sound filled the night air. Lily squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to let tears fall. Her heart began to race, and panic clawed its way up her throat, making it hard to breath. A thousand memories she had sworn to keep locked away flashed through her mind, slowly pulling her deeper into panic’s grip.
Succumbing to the panic, Lily felt dizzy, and soft fell to her knees. Her entire body felt cold, causing her to tug her leather jacket tighter around her body. After a few moments of paralyzing anxiety and panic, an image of a younger Nick popped into Lily’s head. “Remember, Tiger Lily,” he said, “slow your breathing and focus on something pretty around you.” When she first started experiencing panic attacks in her childhood, Nick had told her this as a way to calm herself. It was a method she used to that day.
Opening her eyes ever so slightly, Lily searched her surroundings for something, anything she could focus on. A cluster of Carolina lilies grew in a flower bed a few yards away, and Lily took a moment to admire their fiery-colored beauty. Her breathing began to calm and her heart began to slow, giving Lily back some control of her body.
Pulling herself to her feet, Lily slowly walked over to the bridge railing where she had last saw the man. Taking a deep, hesitant breath, Lily peered over the edge, searching for any signs of life in the rippling waters below. Aside from a smattering of blood on one of the rocks protruding from the water, she found nothing. Letting out the breath she had been holding, Lily pulled out her cell phone and quickly dialed.
“911, what is your emergency?”
“Hi, my name is Liliana Atwood,” Lily began, surprising herself with the steady, monotonous tone of her voice. “I just witnessed a man jump off the bridge in City Park, next to the playground on the Granite Trail,” she continued, turning to lean her back against the railing in sudden exhaustion.
“Alright ma’am. There are police officers and a rescue team in route to your location. Please stay on the line and remain on scene so you can give a statement of what you saw,” the operator responded.
“Okay,” Lily agreed before putting the phone on speaker and sitting it on the railing. She let out a sigh and dropped her chin to her chest, closing her eyes for a moment. A few moments later when she opened them, she noticed a small journal on the ground near her feet.
Lily knelt slowly, picking up the book in both hands. It was bound in black leather, and had yellowed pages that revealed its old age. The cover of the book was embossed with gold lettering, spelling, “The Secrets I Keep.” At first, Lily was scared to open the book, but the approaching police sirens gave her a sense of courage. Lily couldn’t help but flip through the first few pages.
"I should have known by the flame I'm under."
codedbycrucialstar
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erzulie
cheers for spring; for life; for a growing soul
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Arielle Stevens
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It was hard to believe that in as little as four days her life had took a turn. Whether it happened to be a good turn or a bad one was still up for discussion. For many years she’d accepted that staying in her hometown of Omaha with her own flower shop and her dog Blue lounging by the door as customers came in or taking over her father’s ranch and continuing the Daye family legacy. However life seemed to have different plans. Instead of helping her father out with the farm animals or doing her usual chores around the ranch Anaïs sat amongst some of the most beautiful plants that she’d ever seen. In her hands was a little black book, filled with information on the exacts same plants that she’d been admiring for most of the day.
The University of Toronto would have not been her first pick when it came to higher learning. It was too far away from home and from everyone that she knew. But for some reason she felt drawn to it in a way. It was odd yet Anaïs didn’t question it at first. Upon arrival she’d been told, very bluntly, of why she was here. At the first mention of her mother Anaïs began to walk away. Why would she want to know more about the woman who abandoned her father and herself so many years ago. It was good riddance to her in Anaïs’ eyes. However, she did want to find out the reason why she had came here. The older woman who’d approached her told her of a higher purpose and mission from the gods. So Anaïs had cast her stubbornness aside and learned of her heritage. Thought still didn’t change how she felt about her mother.
The young woman suddenly pulled herself from her thoughts. She looked at her watch and realized that it was time for what she called the group introduction. Gracefully she stood up from her sitting position on one of the benches and closed her book. Anaïs took a moment to stretch. How long had she been sitting like that? She couldn’t help but groan as her joints popped. After a few seconds of stretching Anaïs was on her way. Before long she reached the Entrance Hall. She watched as others like her poured in. Some had looks of excitement and nervousness on their faces while others looked as if they still couldn’t believe it. She walked further in, figuring that it would be best to mingle with her peers. She wondered just which gods or goddess that many of them came from.
The University of Toronto would have not been her first pick when it came to higher learning. It was too far away from home and from everyone that she knew. But for some reason she felt drawn to it in a way. It was odd yet Anaïs didn’t question it at first. Upon arrival she’d been told, very bluntly, of why she was here. At the first mention of her mother Anaïs began to walk away. Why would she want to know more about the woman who abandoned her father and herself so many years ago. It was good riddance to her in Anaïs’ eyes. However, she did want to find out the reason why she had came here. The older woman who’d approached her told her of a higher purpose and mission from the gods. So Anaïs had cast her stubbornness aside and learned of her heritage. Thought still didn’t change how she felt about her mother.
The young woman suddenly pulled herself from her thoughts. She looked at her watch and realized that it was time for what she called the group introduction. Gracefully she stood up from her sitting position on one of the benches and closed her book. Anaïs took a moment to stretch. How long had she been sitting like that? She couldn’t help but groan as her joints popped. After a few seconds of stretching Anaïs was on her way. Before long she reached the Entrance Hall. She watched as others like her poured in. Some had looks of excitement and nervousness on their faces while others looked as if they still couldn’t believe it. She walked further in, figuring that it would be best to mingle with her peers. She wondered just which gods or goddess that many of them came from.
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MadiRaiCat
Wine Aunt
Miles Madden
Nickname: None really
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Heterosexual
West or East: East
Face Claim: Taron Egerton
Hair/Eye Color: Light brown / Blue
Height/Weight: 5'11" / 185 lbs
Body Type: Muscular yet not overly buff
Tattoos/Piercings: None
Theme Song: Save Rock and Roll by Fall Out Boy ft. Elton John
Extras: Drives a brand new black Tesla Model S
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Heterosexual
West or East: East
Face Claim: Taron Egerton
Hair/Eye Color: Light brown / Blue
Height/Weight: 5'11" / 185 lbs
Body Type: Muscular yet not overly buff
Tattoos/Piercings: None
Theme Song: Save Rock and Roll by Fall Out Boy ft. Elton John
Extras: Drives a brand new black Tesla Model S
Likes: Playing guitar, drinking, doing drugs, partying, working out, hanging out with friends, video games
Dislikes: His father, selfishness, bullies, people expecting too much out of him, seagulls
Personality: Despite coming from a wealthy family, Miles has a generous heart. He would rather his actions define him than the money he will one day inherit, and so Miles will give to anyone in need without even batting an eye. He's intelligent and witty, doing rather well in most of his classes at school. He has only ever had a problem with mathematics, and now that he lives with Tiger Lily who tutors him, he has been doing better. Miles loves to have fun, whether that be through sports, hanging out with friends, or something completely off the wall.
Given Miles virtues, he also has a few vices. When it comes to having fun, Miles can go a bit too far at times. He really enjoys partying, and can sometimes go a little bit too far with the drugs and the alcohol. If Miles is out and having a good time, he has little self-control on a limit for himself. He'll keep going until he passes out. He also can have a bit of an anger problem in terms of having a touchy temper. Miles does not really take shit from anyone, especially if it involves hurting his friends. He will gladly knock someone out for harassing the people he cares about.
Biography: Miles was born to Mr. and Mrs. Robert Madden, marketing firm entrepreneurs and self-made millionaires. As the heir to an international business, his parents have always held Miles to a set of very high standards. Living in a mansion with service personnel for his entire childhood, Miles' parents were rarely around to raise him. Instead, he had a nanny and bodyguards to take care of him.
From a young age, Miles' parents hired teachers, private tutors, and specialized instructors to teach him everything he would need to know to run a large business one day, outside of the normal topics he learned in the East side schools. He was taught everything from multiple foreign languages, to finance, to advanced strategic planning. While he had gotten fairly close with his instructors and nanny, he felt incomplete without the care of his own parents. But unfortunately, it was pretty much the only life he knew.
At around the age of 15, Miles began to act out. He was tired of his life being planned out for him, never having control over his own choices. It was for that reason, Miles began to experiment with drugs and alcohol, sneaking out late at night to go to parties and coming home pretty messed up. His parents were never around much to notice, always out on the next business trip or vacationing around the world. Finally, one night, Miles went a little to far, and wrecked one of his father's most prized cars while driving intoxicated. Immediately, this brought his parents back from their trip to Venice.
After a large fight with his father, Miles confessed to his parents that he didn't want to take over the family business one day. Consumed by anger, Mr. Madden immediately cut his son off and through him out of the house. To him, he no longer had a son. With a little money of his own, Miles took his things and moved into an apartment on the West Side, quickly finding a roommate and best friend in Tiger Lily. She was the little sister he never really had growing up, but kind of wanted. Mrs. Madden, feeling sorry for the way her husband treated her son and therefore without his knowledge, still sends Miles money every month to take care of himself.
Relationships: Best Friends with Tiger Lily, otherwise TBD
Writing Sample: See Lily's CS
Dislikes: His father, selfishness, bullies, people expecting too much out of him, seagulls
Personality: Despite coming from a wealthy family, Miles has a generous heart. He would rather his actions define him than the money he will one day inherit, and so Miles will give to anyone in need without even batting an eye. He's intelligent and witty, doing rather well in most of his classes at school. He has only ever had a problem with mathematics, and now that he lives with Tiger Lily who tutors him, he has been doing better. Miles loves to have fun, whether that be through sports, hanging out with friends, or something completely off the wall.
Given Miles virtues, he also has a few vices. When it comes to having fun, Miles can go a bit too far at times. He really enjoys partying, and can sometimes go a little bit too far with the drugs and the alcohol. If Miles is out and having a good time, he has little self-control on a limit for himself. He'll keep going until he passes out. He also can have a bit of an anger problem in terms of having a touchy temper. Miles does not really take shit from anyone, especially if it involves hurting his friends. He will gladly knock someone out for harassing the people he cares about.
Biography: Miles was born to Mr. and Mrs. Robert Madden, marketing firm entrepreneurs and self-made millionaires. As the heir to an international business, his parents have always held Miles to a set of very high standards. Living in a mansion with service personnel for his entire childhood, Miles' parents were rarely around to raise him. Instead, he had a nanny and bodyguards to take care of him.
From a young age, Miles' parents hired teachers, private tutors, and specialized instructors to teach him everything he would need to know to run a large business one day, outside of the normal topics he learned in the East side schools. He was taught everything from multiple foreign languages, to finance, to advanced strategic planning. While he had gotten fairly close with his instructors and nanny, he felt incomplete without the care of his own parents. But unfortunately, it was pretty much the only life he knew.
At around the age of 15, Miles began to act out. He was tired of his life being planned out for him, never having control over his own choices. It was for that reason, Miles began to experiment with drugs and alcohol, sneaking out late at night to go to parties and coming home pretty messed up. His parents were never around much to notice, always out on the next business trip or vacationing around the world. Finally, one night, Miles went a little to far, and wrecked one of his father's most prized cars while driving intoxicated. Immediately, this brought his parents back from their trip to Venice.
After a large fight with his father, Miles confessed to his parents that he didn't want to take over the family business one day. Consumed by anger, Mr. Madden immediately cut his son off and through him out of the house. To him, he no longer had a son. With a little money of his own, Miles took his things and moved into an apartment on the West Side, quickly finding a roommate and best friend in Tiger Lily. She was the little sister he never really had growing up, but kind of wanted. Mrs. Madden, feeling sorry for the way her husband treated her son and therefore without his knowledge, still sends Miles money every month to take care of himself.
Relationships: Best Friends with Tiger Lily, otherwise TBD
Writing Sample: See Lily's CS
"You should never take more than you give."
codedbycrucialstar
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Cosmo
Does Not Know Kung-fu
Name
Alfred W. Lorraine
Nickname
Al/Alfie
Age
18
Gender
Male
Sexuality
Heterosexual
West or East
East
Face Claim
Alfred Enoch
Eye Color
Dark Brown
Dark Brown
Hair Color
Black
Height/Weight
6'4, 198
Body Type
Mesomorph
Tattoos/Piercings/Etc.
N/A
Theme Song
X X X
Extra
Drives a Dodge Pick-Up
Has two dogs, a Pomeranian called Princess Tia and a Labrador named Duke Winifred the Third
Has one grumpy old cat he simply refers to as 'Mimi'
Likes
Ice Cream, Junk Food, Pranks, Humor, Video Games, Reading, Drinking,
Driving, Leta [Housekeeper], Off-Roading, Camping, Animals, Concerts, Football
Dislikes
Hospitals, Law School/Lawyers, 'The Call', School Councilor, Soccer, His Father,
Celery, Bad Drivers, Secretaries
Personality
Playful || Bitter || Creative || Stubborn || Kind
Alfred is, first and foremost, a playful guy. He loves jokes, he loves pranks, he loves to have fun doing whatever it is he or someone near him can think of. Alfred can find enjoyment in just about anything and will quickly turn things into competitions or games if he becomes bored because, well, if they are all there might as well have a little fun, right? This can make Alfred a bit exhausting to be around as he always bounces around to something new to do and moves a hundred miles a minute, but he is never a bore and that is badge he wears proudly. However, he is so playful it can be hard to see when he is being serious and, moreover, take him serious which can, and has, backfired rather spectacularly on him. It is when they backfire that things can get rough because Alfred is a brooder. He will cling to his anger and hurt for months to even years. He can 'bury' the pain and anger, but never truly forget about it and that can make him incredibly spiteful especially if it comes back up to the surface long after the initial hurt happened leaving people confused and baffled to the 'why' of his anger. This is the source of a lot of his actions, especially, his pranks, a way to get back at people or fight against his father without people realizing just how hard he is trying as the last thing he wants is sympathy or for people to realize just how much of an 'angry little man' he can be.
His pranks are the most obvious signs of his creative from filling the sprinkler system with bubble bath, putting kernels into an exhaust pipe so popcorn comes flying out as their car goes down the road, changing the background and login sound on friend's laptops when they forget to lock them and walk away, but his spiteful nature can come out in his pranks such as when he drew 'Free Candy' as well as some other more colorful drawings onto the large white van that was used to move band equipment in permanent marker. Alfred has played so many over the years and gotten caught so many times that whenever a prank is played in town people often assume it is him, and it is only through his father that he has escaped with only light punishments and, sometimes, even no punishment. This hasn't made Alfred happy at all, as he is stubborn and hates that his father can just come into his life and 'fix' everything he views as out of place. Alfred is more then stubborn enough to want to take the punishment just so he has some sort of control over his life even if that control is just allowing a punishment to go through to its fullest extent. Alfred would happily dig himself into a massive hole and never climb out just to prove a point even if that point was wrong as once he sets his feet, he is impossible to move, but despite being a stubborn ass, Alfred is kind. He loves animals, his pranks are never meant to truly hurt anyone and if they do, he feels terrible and tries to make it up to them, often, in ways where he can avoid them finding out he was the one who cheered them up. Alfred enjoys helping people and enjoys making people laugh and have a good time although he'd never admit as such to anyone.
Bio
Alfred was the only child of Randal Lorraine and Christine Lorraine. Randal grew up on the west side to a poor family but through hard work and dedication got a full ride to Stanford where he changed his life, however, he was so desperate to get out of his old life that once he did, he never looked back. He entered law school and then became a partner in a firm before starting his own a few years later. He met and married Christine who was the daughter of his partner for his new firm not only because she was a 'good marriage' but it would cement their partnership. It was not a marriage of love, or even like, but from their marriage came Alfred. Alfred didn't understand their relationship as a child, his parents were his parents. He was closer to his mom, who was often home, compared to his father that rarely was. When he was eight, his mother was diagnosed with leukemia and passed away quickly after, her funereal was an affair the young Alfred did not fully comprehend, and it was a funereal his father could not attend for he had 'important business' elsewhere.
The one who got him through it was the housemaid that his father hired to keep an eye on him, Leta. Leta became his housemaid, caretaker, mother and older sister all rolled into one and the person he became closest to. She taught him about the world, how to behave, how to cope with the loss of his mother and tried to help him understand his father, but that lesson never really sank in. As he grew older and his father decided he was old enough to 'understand', he let his expectations be known. Randal didn't just want to be successful, he wanted to create a dynasty, a legacy, for that he needed his only son to take up his reins once he was ready to pass them, likely, when he was good and dead. Alfred would accompany him, from time to time, he would learn how to behave properly, he would build connections, he would do well in school, he would graduate and go to Stanford, he would enter law school and he would do it and be thankful he was being given this on a silver platter when he had to climb his way up from the gutter.
For years, Alfred did his best to make his father proud of him by following his rules and guidelines, but it was never enough. He was good, but not great. Smart but not a genius. He just wasn't.. enough, so Alfred started to rebel which caused his father to tighten his grip, but the tighter he gripped the more Alfred rebelled. A viscous cycle that has never truly ended even after it seems his father has seemingly written him off and has begun looking for a new wife, Alfred can only assume, so he can have another child and replace Alfred as his heir to this 'legacy' he seeks to create. As highschool rolled on Alfred found he was extremely good at pranks, most of them were rather tame, but every once in awhile, they would grow out of hand, he would get in trouble, they would receive a phone call from his father and he would be let go. When he got home, Leta would be waiting with a phone in her hand, 'the call'. He never spoke to his dad anymore, the only interaction they would have is from that phone, when he messed up and his father wanted to put him back in his place through 'the call'. But nothing he said ever hurt, ever got him down, the disappointment and concern on Leta's face as she handed him the phone always hit the hardest... His father was a stranger, Leta was Leta.
His latest prank was also the most dangerous. It had started over something silly, he had developed a small crush on a girl, a girl from the west side but when he had asked her out, it hadn't gone to plan and she had firmly rejected him, so bitter Alfred wanted to get back at her and what better way then to prank the entire student body of the west side? Alfred and some friends bought a large amount of fireworks, mostly, fountains and planned to light them under the metal bleachers during a game which would be, mostly, harmless but cause quite the panic and stir ruining the entire game and going down as the best prank ever played on the poor kids... assuming they could afford the books to write them in.. it.. didn't go to plan. When they were setting up inside the hall, one of the fireworks went off quickly lighting the other ones and catching the curtains nearby on fire. His friends ran and Alfred tried, in vain, to stop the fire but it was too late, it spread out of control. All he could do is run as the fire spread behind him. With the school burnt down, the students of west side had to come to their school and it is only a matter of time before someone pieces together what Alfred did.
Relationships
Black
Height/Weight
6'4, 198
Body Type
Mesomorph
Tattoos/Piercings/Etc.
N/A
Theme Song
X X X
Extra
Drives a Dodge Pick-Up
Has two dogs, a Pomeranian called Princess Tia and a Labrador named Duke Winifred the Third
Has one grumpy old cat he simply refers to as 'Mimi'
Likes
Ice Cream, Junk Food, Pranks, Humor, Video Games, Reading, Drinking,
Driving, Leta [Housekeeper], Off-Roading, Camping, Animals, Concerts, Football
Dislikes
Hospitals, Law School/Lawyers, 'The Call', School Councilor, Soccer, His Father,
Celery, Bad Drivers, Secretaries
Personality
Playful || Bitter || Creative || Stubborn || Kind
Alfred is, first and foremost, a playful guy. He loves jokes, he loves pranks, he loves to have fun doing whatever it is he or someone near him can think of. Alfred can find enjoyment in just about anything and will quickly turn things into competitions or games if he becomes bored because, well, if they are all there might as well have a little fun, right? This can make Alfred a bit exhausting to be around as he always bounces around to something new to do and moves a hundred miles a minute, but he is never a bore and that is badge he wears proudly. However, he is so playful it can be hard to see when he is being serious and, moreover, take him serious which can, and has, backfired rather spectacularly on him. It is when they backfire that things can get rough because Alfred is a brooder. He will cling to his anger and hurt for months to even years. He can 'bury' the pain and anger, but never truly forget about it and that can make him incredibly spiteful especially if it comes back up to the surface long after the initial hurt happened leaving people confused and baffled to the 'why' of his anger. This is the source of a lot of his actions, especially, his pranks, a way to get back at people or fight against his father without people realizing just how hard he is trying as the last thing he wants is sympathy or for people to realize just how much of an 'angry little man' he can be.
His pranks are the most obvious signs of his creative from filling the sprinkler system with bubble bath, putting kernels into an exhaust pipe so popcorn comes flying out as their car goes down the road, changing the background and login sound on friend's laptops when they forget to lock them and walk away, but his spiteful nature can come out in his pranks such as when he drew 'Free Candy' as well as some other more colorful drawings onto the large white van that was used to move band equipment in permanent marker. Alfred has played so many over the years and gotten caught so many times that whenever a prank is played in town people often assume it is him, and it is only through his father that he has escaped with only light punishments and, sometimes, even no punishment. This hasn't made Alfred happy at all, as he is stubborn and hates that his father can just come into his life and 'fix' everything he views as out of place. Alfred is more then stubborn enough to want to take the punishment just so he has some sort of control over his life even if that control is just allowing a punishment to go through to its fullest extent. Alfred would happily dig himself into a massive hole and never climb out just to prove a point even if that point was wrong as once he sets his feet, he is impossible to move, but despite being a stubborn ass, Alfred is kind. He loves animals, his pranks are never meant to truly hurt anyone and if they do, he feels terrible and tries to make it up to them, often, in ways where he can avoid them finding out he was the one who cheered them up. Alfred enjoys helping people and enjoys making people laugh and have a good time although he'd never admit as such to anyone.
Bio
Alfred was the only child of Randal Lorraine and Christine Lorraine. Randal grew up on the west side to a poor family but through hard work and dedication got a full ride to Stanford where he changed his life, however, he was so desperate to get out of his old life that once he did, he never looked back. He entered law school and then became a partner in a firm before starting his own a few years later. He met and married Christine who was the daughter of his partner for his new firm not only because she was a 'good marriage' but it would cement their partnership. It was not a marriage of love, or even like, but from their marriage came Alfred. Alfred didn't understand their relationship as a child, his parents were his parents. He was closer to his mom, who was often home, compared to his father that rarely was. When he was eight, his mother was diagnosed with leukemia and passed away quickly after, her funereal was an affair the young Alfred did not fully comprehend, and it was a funereal his father could not attend for he had 'important business' elsewhere.
The one who got him through it was the housemaid that his father hired to keep an eye on him, Leta. Leta became his housemaid, caretaker, mother and older sister all rolled into one and the person he became closest to. She taught him about the world, how to behave, how to cope with the loss of his mother and tried to help him understand his father, but that lesson never really sank in. As he grew older and his father decided he was old enough to 'understand', he let his expectations be known. Randal didn't just want to be successful, he wanted to create a dynasty, a legacy, for that he needed his only son to take up his reins once he was ready to pass them, likely, when he was good and dead. Alfred would accompany him, from time to time, he would learn how to behave properly, he would build connections, he would do well in school, he would graduate and go to Stanford, he would enter law school and he would do it and be thankful he was being given this on a silver platter when he had to climb his way up from the gutter.
For years, Alfred did his best to make his father proud of him by following his rules and guidelines, but it was never enough. He was good, but not great. Smart but not a genius. He just wasn't.. enough, so Alfred started to rebel which caused his father to tighten his grip, but the tighter he gripped the more Alfred rebelled. A viscous cycle that has never truly ended even after it seems his father has seemingly written him off and has begun looking for a new wife, Alfred can only assume, so he can have another child and replace Alfred as his heir to this 'legacy' he seeks to create. As highschool rolled on Alfred found he was extremely good at pranks, most of them were rather tame, but every once in awhile, they would grow out of hand, he would get in trouble, they would receive a phone call from his father and he would be let go. When he got home, Leta would be waiting with a phone in her hand, 'the call'. He never spoke to his dad anymore, the only interaction they would have is from that phone, when he messed up and his father wanted to put him back in his place through 'the call'. But nothing he said ever hurt, ever got him down, the disappointment and concern on Leta's face as she handed him the phone always hit the hardest... His father was a stranger, Leta was Leta.
His latest prank was also the most dangerous. It had started over something silly, he had developed a small crush on a girl, a girl from the west side but when he had asked her out, it hadn't gone to plan and she had firmly rejected him, so bitter Alfred wanted to get back at her and what better way then to prank the entire student body of the west side? Alfred and some friends bought a large amount of fireworks, mostly, fountains and planned to light them under the metal bleachers during a game which would be, mostly, harmless but cause quite the panic and stir ruining the entire game and going down as the best prank ever played on the poor kids... assuming they could afford the books to write them in.. it.. didn't go to plan. When they were setting up inside the hall, one of the fireworks went off quickly lighting the other ones and catching the curtains nearby on fire. His friends ran and Alfred tried, in vain, to stop the fire but it was too late, it spread out of control. All he could do is run as the fire spread behind him. With the school burnt down, the students of west side had to come to their school and it is only a matter of time before someone pieces together what Alfred did.
Relationships
Writing Sample
The rays of the waning sun spilled through the small window above the gas stove, bathing the kitchen in a orange glow that was destined to leave. Eli ran his fingers across the smooth, worn wood of the small round table, a table that had seemed so much longer so long ago. Before the leaf that used to sit in the middle of the table had been broken in an 'accident'. Accidents happened so often in the small house. Like the time his mother tripped and smashed her head so hard into the end of the table that the hing to the leaf snapped off, the small dent in the surface of the table, the innocent indenture that he could run the pad of his thumb on and feel not the slightest mar... An indenture that a skull had made when it was slammed into it and held down, to be reminded of it place, to cower before their 'alpha', its father, Eli's father. The small house was suffocating, it was so small and it was as if, at any moment, his father would round the corner and demand to know what he was doing, sitting at the table before he had sat down. His brother coming at his heels, the apple of his eye, the boy that could do no wrong, ready to gloat and to enforce his own will when they were alone in their room, when Eli wouldn't make any noise. To make noise was to call father who hated to be woke, hated more to have to walk down the hall to their room and put the pups in their place again. Eli hated this place. Hated how small he felt the second he came in. The ghost that lingered in the shadows, in every creak or groan of the wood. Someday, he was going to burn it down. The last act of a defiant child at a man he was always too afraid to face and now never would have the chance to. It wouldn't do much. This 'place' was more then wood and steel, it was memory and pain, love and solitude, but it didn't matter. He would burn it and piss on the ashes.
"You have to go soon, don't you?" A small, soft voice came, almost tentatively as if afraid of its own sound. Eli's eyes snapped to the small mouse of a woman sitting on the side of the table. Her long brown hair fell in waves, her deep green eyes, eyes that were guarded and constantly jumped to the shadows of the house always on the watch for movement. The eyes of a small animal constantly looking for the predator that still lived in her mind, seared into her instincts over the years that time had yet to heal.
"Yep," Eli said as he leaned back in his chair, the old wood creaking and his stomach lurched as, for just a moment, he thought it would finally break and send him tumbling to the floor, a place he had found himself on more then a few occasions, "Wasn't going to, but there ain't shit on Netflix, so," he paused to give himself time to offer her a weak shrug, "Figure I might as well get out. I may just be the guy that hides the money, cleans it and files the taxes, but don't want to deprive the people of my sparking personality," Eli offered his mother a small smile, they both knew he was anything but charming to be around, "You can come with, I have enough room and it'd be good for you to get out of this," he paused as he tried to conjure the right word, "Shit hole? Yeah, shit hole."
The ever so slight tilt of his mother's eyes and that momentary flash in her eyes told him her amusement, "I'm fine honey, you should invite someone, you know they'd like you more if you let them," she said, soft as always, but the slight tensing of her body didn't escape his notice. That reflex that was beaten into her to not talk back, to never correct, worked its way through her.
"I doubt that, Ma, I think they can barely handle my charm as it is," Eli said, "Although, you know I can get you a nicer place. Maybe something closer to town?" A place with less memories, the important part left unsaid as so many things in his life was. Silence returned to the kitchen, the old clock on the wall almost painful loud as it slowly ticked, mockingly counting each moment that passed as the suffocating air swept back in.
"I-I'm fine, hon," the mousy woman said, her arms coming up to her shoulders, encasing herself from the world. A stance he had seen so much growing up, as she stood in the corner watching everything happened, terrified to step forward or raise her voice, "This is fine for me."
For me, the words hung in the air between them, a weight on both of them. The unspoken feelings that were there. This was her prison, her cage, her punishment. The same feelings that lurked in the dark part of his soul, the part that hated and blamed her for being so weak. For standing to the side as his father put them in their place every time. The time she stood in the corner, holding herself as Eli was reintroduced to the back of his father's calloused hands for knocking over the broom. It wasn't her fault, not really. She was a prisoner just like he was, but he couldn't help it. That small part of him that would whisper in his ear. How she just watched. That she was supposed to protect him, and she didn't. The same treacherous voice that whispered in her ear and told her she deserved this, to be haunted by the ghost of the past.
But how could such a small woman have done anything? Eli reached across the table, the sudden impulse to take one of those hands that was digging into her arm and hold it, offer what comfort he could despite it all... but the second he did it, he regretted it. The sudden movement scared her, she leaned back, the legs of the chair scrapping across the tile of the kitchen floor, her eyes wide like a child caught stealing candy, the color of her face draining.. and then the slow realization of what she had just done. How she had flinched, flinched from him, from her Eli, the pain that lurked behind the green eyes, tears held back from a lifetime of practice, her teeth digging in to her bottom lip to stifle her gasp. Eli closed his hand into a fist, his nails digging into his skin as he reprimanded himself. He shouldn't have moved so fast, he shouldn't have reached for her, he shouldn't have... he shouldn't have been himself. Eli was only good at fucking things up, it was what he was best at, he should never forget that. Eli let the mask slid on, the easy cocky smile, the one that got him punched and earned him the hatred of many furry bikers, the skin he was comfortable in, "Sorry, Ma, but I gotta go. You know, party can't start without the pooper."
The mousy woman looked down at the table, he wasn't sure if it was to avoid the mask he wore or the pain that lay within her heart for the action she couldn't control. Her only response was the barest of nods. Eli pushed himself to his feet and headed for the door, for freedom from the suffocating room, from the guilt and pain, the anger and memories. He paused at the door, his knuckles against the wood, "I'll call the plumber later tonight and see if I can't get that bathroom sink looked at," he wasn't looking at her, not now. He was looking outside. To the jeep that was parked on the gravel road, the jeep he drove to annoy the bikers as he rarely, if ever, rode his bike, a childish rebellion just like everything else was, "I'll come by for dinner sometime next week, I'll give you a call before then."
"Okay," the small voice called out from the house, the voice that would never be free, "I love you, Eli," it said, his heart clenched in his chest as his knuckles dug into the door frame, "I know Ma, I know. I'll see you soon," he said, never looking back, as he fled from the house, their prison, and he didn't have the strength to say it back nor the courage to look back
"You have to go soon, don't you?" A small, soft voice came, almost tentatively as if afraid of its own sound. Eli's eyes snapped to the small mouse of a woman sitting on the side of the table. Her long brown hair fell in waves, her deep green eyes, eyes that were guarded and constantly jumped to the shadows of the house always on the watch for movement. The eyes of a small animal constantly looking for the predator that still lived in her mind, seared into her instincts over the years that time had yet to heal.
"Yep," Eli said as he leaned back in his chair, the old wood creaking and his stomach lurched as, for just a moment, he thought it would finally break and send him tumbling to the floor, a place he had found himself on more then a few occasions, "Wasn't going to, but there ain't shit on Netflix, so," he paused to give himself time to offer her a weak shrug, "Figure I might as well get out. I may just be the guy that hides the money, cleans it and files the taxes, but don't want to deprive the people of my sparking personality," Eli offered his mother a small smile, they both knew he was anything but charming to be around, "You can come with, I have enough room and it'd be good for you to get out of this," he paused as he tried to conjure the right word, "Shit hole? Yeah, shit hole."
The ever so slight tilt of his mother's eyes and that momentary flash in her eyes told him her amusement, "I'm fine honey, you should invite someone, you know they'd like you more if you let them," she said, soft as always, but the slight tensing of her body didn't escape his notice. That reflex that was beaten into her to not talk back, to never correct, worked its way through her.
"I doubt that, Ma, I think they can barely handle my charm as it is," Eli said, "Although, you know I can get you a nicer place. Maybe something closer to town?" A place with less memories, the important part left unsaid as so many things in his life was. Silence returned to the kitchen, the old clock on the wall almost painful loud as it slowly ticked, mockingly counting each moment that passed as the suffocating air swept back in.
"I-I'm fine, hon," the mousy woman said, her arms coming up to her shoulders, encasing herself from the world. A stance he had seen so much growing up, as she stood in the corner watching everything happened, terrified to step forward or raise her voice, "This is fine for me."
For me, the words hung in the air between them, a weight on both of them. The unspoken feelings that were there. This was her prison, her cage, her punishment. The same feelings that lurked in the dark part of his soul, the part that hated and blamed her for being so weak. For standing to the side as his father put them in their place every time. The time she stood in the corner, holding herself as Eli was reintroduced to the back of his father's calloused hands for knocking over the broom. It wasn't her fault, not really. She was a prisoner just like he was, but he couldn't help it. That small part of him that would whisper in his ear. How she just watched. That she was supposed to protect him, and she didn't. The same treacherous voice that whispered in her ear and told her she deserved this, to be haunted by the ghost of the past.
But how could such a small woman have done anything? Eli reached across the table, the sudden impulse to take one of those hands that was digging into her arm and hold it, offer what comfort he could despite it all... but the second he did it, he regretted it. The sudden movement scared her, she leaned back, the legs of the chair scrapping across the tile of the kitchen floor, her eyes wide like a child caught stealing candy, the color of her face draining.. and then the slow realization of what she had just done. How she had flinched, flinched from him, from her Eli, the pain that lurked behind the green eyes, tears held back from a lifetime of practice, her teeth digging in to her bottom lip to stifle her gasp. Eli closed his hand into a fist, his nails digging into his skin as he reprimanded himself. He shouldn't have moved so fast, he shouldn't have reached for her, he shouldn't have... he shouldn't have been himself. Eli was only good at fucking things up, it was what he was best at, he should never forget that. Eli let the mask slid on, the easy cocky smile, the one that got him punched and earned him the hatred of many furry bikers, the skin he was comfortable in, "Sorry, Ma, but I gotta go. You know, party can't start without the pooper."
The mousy woman looked down at the table, he wasn't sure if it was to avoid the mask he wore or the pain that lay within her heart for the action she couldn't control. Her only response was the barest of nods. Eli pushed himself to his feet and headed for the door, for freedom from the suffocating room, from the guilt and pain, the anger and memories. He paused at the door, his knuckles against the wood, "I'll call the plumber later tonight and see if I can't get that bathroom sink looked at," he wasn't looking at her, not now. He was looking outside. To the jeep that was parked on the gravel road, the jeep he drove to annoy the bikers as he rarely, if ever, rode his bike, a childish rebellion just like everything else was, "I'll come by for dinner sometime next week, I'll give you a call before then."
"Okay," the small voice called out from the house, the voice that would never be free, "I love you, Eli," it said, his heart clenched in his chest as his knuckles dug into the door frame, "I know Ma, I know. I'll see you soon," he said, never looking back, as he fled from the house, their prison, and he didn't have the strength to say it back nor the courage to look back
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Qazi
Qāżī Saʿīd Qumī
Name: Paul Davidson
Nickname: Davy, Dave
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Heterosexual
West or East: East
He's a man of a fairly average stature, both in terms of height and weight, if a bit too lean—though, considering his age, which might as well be normal—, only possessing some unique traits, modestly distinctive, in the form of wavy hair that reaches the shoulder, usually parted in the middle, and a pale olive skin that seems to suggest mixed heritage. He's certainly a gaunt figure, perhaps a bit too much for his youth, with circles underneath the eyes, jaws on the thinner side of the spectrum, moderately large and shaped lips and noticeable cheekbones, which casts him a rather vulture appearance.
Eye Color: Brown
Hair Color: Black
Height/Weight: 5'7; 139 lb
Body Type: Lean
Tattoos/Piercings/Etc: Tattoo of a pair of eyeglasses on his back, fairly minuscule
Theme Song:
Vehicle: 1988 Fiero Formula
Likes: girls, teevee, poetry, cars, gratuitous violence, drugs, literature
Dislikes: poseurs, fools, lawyers, sentimentality, pushovers
Personality: the words ordinarily used to describe him (‘self-obsessed, shallow, arrogant’) are not quite representative of his actual character, or perhaps they are, but which depends on the individual perception; indeed, one might say objectively, he's not a very sympathetic, sensitive person, suffering from an early-onset bohemianism likely to affect him until after college, suffering from the usual teenage attachment to hedonism, suffering from a moral scarcity—he's almost entirely comprised of sufferings, of all sorts, as one would expect from a troubled teenager of his age—, and so on until a logical conclusion is reached, however, this logical conclusion is not without a few positive elements of its own: while he does suffer from delusions of grandeur, teenage grandeur that is, and moral myopia and an excess of worshipping the intellectual, sometimes himself, this very attribute gives him a certain curiosity and a drive to involve himself in quite a lot affairs, even though he's motivated by his own indulgences rather than any other external or humane factors; and, despite his arrogance and overwhelming sense of self—stated with some amount of irony—, he is quite able to make friends, and is loyal to said friends, if not exactly respectful of their beings. Additionally, he's still quite able to deal with sufferings, himself and his own perception, askew as it is, though at the cost of a veritable wealth of wrath, which he does not act upon often but will in some certain circumstances—especially if his nerves, his underlying paranoia streaks, are grabbed.
Bio: he was born in the Palisades near Santa Monica and Gordita, in California, America, and stayed there for most of his early childhood—where, under the care of a single father who was rather negligent, he began to develop symptoms of his later afflictions, though he wasn't able to exhibit or exercise these peculiar traits until after he was sent to Jersey to his uncle to practice law in his firm. In the middle of his de facto apprenticeship, he became affiliated with a records shop that was known to act as a refuge for a neophyte arts movement in the form of a group called the Rayguns, who ironically, in reflection of its name, pursue what they believe to be a logical continuation of the dying, or dead, philosophy of postmodernism, perhaps taking directly after dadaism, and assuming a sort of violence and aggression reminiscent of the early Italian futurists. In spite of being the youngest in the group, he quickly became influential, in turn becoming influenced, moving deep into the world of bohemianism, in particular the haute bohème of the streets that the Rayguns were, owing in part to his wealthy status.
During that time, between his years 15 to 16, the Rayguns indulged in a wide gamut of transgressive actions including but not limited to vandalism, graffiti, theft, the occasional battery and mugging, eventually culminating violently in two cases of murder and a few more of grievous bodily harm inflicted by the leader of the Rayguns. Subsequent investigations snared him in heat and his several side outings were discovered by his father and uncle—he was taken off from the tutelage and exiled, in a manner, to a small seaside town by the name of Ships Haven to attend high school, with the hopes that he will be reformed. Of course, his aims lie elsewhere.
Relationships: N/A [until accepted]
Nickname: Davy, Dave
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Heterosexual
West or East: East
He's a man of a fairly average stature, both in terms of height and weight, if a bit too lean—though, considering his age, which might as well be normal—, only possessing some unique traits, modestly distinctive, in the form of wavy hair that reaches the shoulder, usually parted in the middle, and a pale olive skin that seems to suggest mixed heritage. He's certainly a gaunt figure, perhaps a bit too much for his youth, with circles underneath the eyes, jaws on the thinner side of the spectrum, moderately large and shaped lips and noticeable cheekbones, which casts him a rather vulture appearance.
Eye Color: Brown
Hair Color: Black
Height/Weight: 5'7; 139 lb
Body Type: Lean
Tattoos/Piercings/Etc: Tattoo of a pair of eyeglasses on his back, fairly minuscule
Theme Song:
Vehicle: 1988 Fiero Formula
Likes: girls, teevee, poetry, cars, gratuitous violence, drugs, literature
Dislikes: poseurs, fools, lawyers, sentimentality, pushovers
Personality: the words ordinarily used to describe him (‘self-obsessed, shallow, arrogant’) are not quite representative of his actual character, or perhaps they are, but which depends on the individual perception; indeed, one might say objectively, he's not a very sympathetic, sensitive person, suffering from an early-onset bohemianism likely to affect him until after college, suffering from the usual teenage attachment to hedonism, suffering from a moral scarcity—he's almost entirely comprised of sufferings, of all sorts, as one would expect from a troubled teenager of his age—, and so on until a logical conclusion is reached, however, this logical conclusion is not without a few positive elements of its own: while he does suffer from delusions of grandeur, teenage grandeur that is, and moral myopia and an excess of worshipping the intellectual, sometimes himself, this very attribute gives him a certain curiosity and a drive to involve himself in quite a lot affairs, even though he's motivated by his own indulgences rather than any other external or humane factors; and, despite his arrogance and overwhelming sense of self—stated with some amount of irony—, he is quite able to make friends, and is loyal to said friends, if not exactly respectful of their beings. Additionally, he's still quite able to deal with sufferings, himself and his own perception, askew as it is, though at the cost of a veritable wealth of wrath, which he does not act upon often but will in some certain circumstances—especially if his nerves, his underlying paranoia streaks, are grabbed.
Bio: he was born in the Palisades near Santa Monica and Gordita, in California, America, and stayed there for most of his early childhood—where, under the care of a single father who was rather negligent, he began to develop symptoms of his later afflictions, though he wasn't able to exhibit or exercise these peculiar traits until after he was sent to Jersey to his uncle to practice law in his firm. In the middle of his de facto apprenticeship, he became affiliated with a records shop that was known to act as a refuge for a neophyte arts movement in the form of a group called the Rayguns, who ironically, in reflection of its name, pursue what they believe to be a logical continuation of the dying, or dead, philosophy of postmodernism, perhaps taking directly after dadaism, and assuming a sort of violence and aggression reminiscent of the early Italian futurists. In spite of being the youngest in the group, he quickly became influential, in turn becoming influenced, moving deep into the world of bohemianism, in particular the haute bohème of the streets that the Rayguns were, owing in part to his wealthy status.
During that time, between his years 15 to 16, the Rayguns indulged in a wide gamut of transgressive actions including but not limited to vandalism, graffiti, theft, the occasional battery and mugging, eventually culminating violently in two cases of murder and a few more of grievous bodily harm inflicted by the leader of the Rayguns. Subsequent investigations snared him in heat and his several side outings were discovered by his father and uncle—he was taken off from the tutelage and exiled, in a manner, to a small seaside town by the name of Ships Haven to attend high school, with the hopes that he will be reformed. Of course, his aims lie elsewhere.
Relationships: N/A [until accepted]
FRANCISCO JOSÉ AZUCENA de Arce, a follower of the Papal Church, the Catholics, surveyed the city from afar standing upon the peak of the Varese Hills from wherein extended the Viluvinum road to la Castello de la Altare—The Castle of the Altar, Milan, greatest city in the world, in the heart of Lombardy—, memorizing the church spires and minor bastillicas and the ruins that composed the east and west faces opposite the dark-roofed lofts and buildings and residential quarters, just past the piazza, the streets paved with cobblestone or simply the treads of past trundling carriages and horses and men, the writhing masses of moorish and negro slaves to the far to the north where they moved to and fro the slave quarters and to the auction exhibitions and the others to the fields where they tended to the grape vineyards and the potatoes and maize corns, and the rivers that fragmented the region into several shards each visited in turn by ships and boats containing cargo, people or the privacy of the rich few, and the billowing smoke that trailed out from the blacksmith Luke's home—or was it the scrivener Aaron?—and coloured the air a slight grey, starkly visible especially with the sun at a full circle gazing down with an intensity unexpected for this undeserving city—smoke, was it? a fire? he could not help but worry over the possible circumstances even though he'd hardly known Luke and the scrivener even less.
Francisco was watching from the vantage point of the marinero pabellón which overlooked Milan and its accompanying swaths of plains-fields and latifundio farmlands sparsely occupied by the few peasants and gentleman who'd managed, by happenstance misfortune he thought, to buy land there or be pressed into working those cruel fields. The same marinero pabellón where aboard several other men and women besides him mingled between each other and conversed—they were either there to cross the footpath or to reach the nearby docks of Porta Ticinese connected to the Naviglio Grande that went through the whole of Lombardy, or to perhaps enter through the Lombra River as entrees from Monza or Como or as far as Bergamo and the outskirts even—and why not? Their personal businesses were of no concern to José save that he could not help but eavesdrop on their accounts, purely by chance and an inability to let his mind wander elsewhere or, if he was to blame himself more thoroughly, an inability to keep the mind from wandering.
“At last, to the gulch below?” the man behind him said, a figure caped in dark with a voice to match.
When José glanced around, furtively of course, he saw the strangely clothed man's companion who notably enough was corpulent and ruddy, perhaps yet to see his fortieth year, in the garbs of what promptly gave away his status as a merchant or an adventurer or any variety of your average wayfaring money-hounder, spoken from the mouth of a humble priest. José knew his sight better than most and he knew doubly that his ears were far better at reckoning the character of all individuals—in this instance, covered in a lathe of morbidity and vanity, grotesque, alienation and isolation, decadent, indulgent and sadistic: “A man of your age might think so.”
The hooded man answered in turn: “And what is this age you speak of, this predecessor?”
“Of a violent land.”
“And so you think this land has perhaps fled its former status of violence, Albizzi? Kid me not, don't let the others have mirth at your expense, the people are flocking with their arms, turning ploughshares and scythes and sickels into swords. It hasn't changed, only that the fire becomes stronger by the decade.”
José recognized the name—could it be Rinaldo degli Albizzi, signore of Florence? What was a Florentine doing in Milan now, of all places?
“Keep your calm. . .” a brief pause, “what was your name, if I may ask again?”
“Tybern.”
“What we speak of, Tybern,” the name was said with the scorn one might attach to their voice when rebuking the advances of beggars, “is a matter of délicatesse.”
“Is that so?” and no more.
José looked at the lifeless horizon and the whistles of men and boats underneath and announced in a voice that none could hear: “Five moments more and then. . .” so his thoughts trailed off, keeping the curious conversation he'd overheard treasure'd in a misty corner of the mind.
AZUCENA IN THE innards of the city, its guts, which reeked of vinegary wine, rotten—or as the locals liked to say, fermenting—fishes, stale cheese and freshly baked flat bread taken from the oven, spices of different varieties in a space so cluttered as make it impossible to distinguish the individual flavors, of damp canals turned alive with algae and moving junk down the ebbs and flows of the waters and the motions of the boats—that which he'd used himself to cross into the city—, meat slathered in grease and cooked over fire, producing the familiar smell of burning fat which almost made the good priest's belly rumble, of sun-dried rats and birds carried cradled in the arms of beggars and the unfortunate looking to sell their salted goods to unwitting passersby for an unsurprisingly exorbitant price, of fresh grass and straw and gruel for the horses and beasts of burden, blood from the slaughterhouse, the stink of boiled leather being prepared at the tanning's, of soap and sweat from the men and the occasional musk of perfume, or perfume of musk, which offered reprieve from the gruel of sensory danza that the thriving polis offered at every screw and turn: “This is a new world,” and said with conviction and belief, which was true, of course, as time would've said. He last touched the Milanese ground—say, even the Lombardy dirt—when he was very young and at a time when the city hadn't been so much of the sprawl it was presently. There were changes, some to signal end of the folding century, now past or history, and he found himself lucky to witness them.
Luke's shop, or what he supposed it to be, was just along the vicelinum passway, hidden in the core of a gordian knot of buildings, narrowly positioned and densely packed, and people and the street itself which became alive in roiling motions of flying garbage, chamber pots, cutlery and instruments and sticks made of rosewood, ash, pine, something dead and whited and at least one chastity belt, which the priest managed to avoid with an agility he heretofore did not know he possessed. He crossed the fort fields where a fanfare was taking place—as to what, he didn't know—and the walls of human obstructions and the desire to indulge in wrath, temptations that is, against said obstructions, though he was well aware of his capabilities and limits: it was often said in the old college he used to work in, teaching students the gospel, that he resembled a fanning prey caught in the limeworks or a sulky youth when angry. He had no wish to allow such rumors to circumnavigate his life again.
LUKE WAS HANDLING a burnt quilt standing by the roadside, which had been watered thoroughly, when Azucena arrived at the scene. He had not changed much, except for grays in his hair and a longer beard, but not much. Or that would've been so if it were not for the fire: he was singed, missing his eyebrows, his skin turned shades of orange and tangerine, hemp apron tinted black with char. His abode behind him, what he also used as his workshop, was unharmed except for wisps of fire rising from the stone and wooden rooftop.
There were others standing around, gazing from the distance or minding their own business, keeping their distances, but the priest was the first to approach. He caught Luke's eyes and pointed at the aftermath of what he thought was a small and contained fire.
“I couldn't have known better,” Luke said. His shirt and hoses were both copper-green with curls of newly added blacks and old browns. “It was a fire, I think, got the eye of the devil hisself is all but, hea'en's be glad, don't've spread much everywhere save my home.”
They stood without speaking for a while, the blacksmith brushing dust off his body, the priest thinking but not thinking. He stared on as two merchants from the guild passed by, with their horses and slaves, and kept at it, studying the moving, energetic, sometimes dismal townsfolk and the crowd that had earlier formed which was dispersing to individual stations.
Luke rose and said, “So, what's your name?”
“José Azucena. I know yours, Luke.”
“Am I that famous?” and a laugh but not a flicker of recognition in his eyes. He did try his best however and José commended him for the effort. “Are you a priest?”
“That would be true. I'm looking for the church around here.”
“Many.”
“Many?”
“Father Gaspare's the one you're lookin for?”
“I am. Do you mind giving me the directions?” which he knew already.
Luke told him the way to the church and then added: “If you meet him, tell him to do something about Marion. Say he's back to his old ways.”
“Who's he?”
“A thief, my nephew, tryin to get out of it. Not very successfully.”
“Gaspare's responsible for him?”
“For a lot of things, at least, here.”
“Why?”
“Why indeed.”
“I mean, he's only. . . he's only a schoolman, isn't he?”
“Oh, he is. . . and that's why.”
THE LAST TIME Hache witnessed violence was during a brief tenure in an institution north of Italy somewhere around Hungary, before Malta which was relatively more passive compared to his earlier ventures with Torquemada and his Order in Spain. He was watching the daily congregation at the Matthias Church when an intruder entered with a bag of shit, a bag made from sinews which reflected his own earthy appearance, and tried to throw them at the archbishop John Kanizsai who was present at the time, possibly with that direct intention of harming him, as would one harm a river sluice by pissing down it. As to whose command that was done, and Hache did suspect a plot at hand underneath the openly shown naiveté of the new consolidation and the kingdom, it was likely Sigismund. Of course, he did not bother to pry much, only satisfy an annoyance born from the blood of that peasant that splattered his robes as hungarian bolts nailed him to the floor. It was far too sudden for him to react though everybody, even him, had seen it coming.
And he thought that same thing, right there in the cramped study of Gaspare, as Berto threw that punch at the otherwise older and perhaps more experienced man—as a denouement, shocking but not too unexpected, to their argument. He eyed the fallen figure and the triumphant but confused fellow inquisitor perched overneath. From that, of an introduction, to this, which was enough to sour his mood a touch—by not that great a margin but enough to keep away detachment.
“Ah, shit, now what do we do?” Berto said, looking at him.
He raised a brow. “Language, signore, is what I would say.” Then he shrugged. “It's not a matter of we, it's a matter of you—and it seems you have assailed that man at your own vicious conduct, vulgar as it was. I would've normally overseen such matters but for the fact that you're under signore Torquemada's commission, which I believe you will keep that in mind from now on. . . before you throw fists at people with primitive abandon, that is.”
He continued: “As for leadership, hierarchies—whatever term you prefer—, we're working for the Order. That's all there is to it,” and glancing at Gaspare on the ground—was he dead? or merely out cold?—, thinking about the possible consequences of this inconvenienience, “Any questions?”
Francisco was watching from the vantage point of the marinero pabellón which overlooked Milan and its accompanying swaths of plains-fields and latifundio farmlands sparsely occupied by the few peasants and gentleman who'd managed, by happenstance misfortune he thought, to buy land there or be pressed into working those cruel fields. The same marinero pabellón where aboard several other men and women besides him mingled between each other and conversed—they were either there to cross the footpath or to reach the nearby docks of Porta Ticinese connected to the Naviglio Grande that went through the whole of Lombardy, or to perhaps enter through the Lombra River as entrees from Monza or Como or as far as Bergamo and the outskirts even—and why not? Their personal businesses were of no concern to José save that he could not help but eavesdrop on their accounts, purely by chance and an inability to let his mind wander elsewhere or, if he was to blame himself more thoroughly, an inability to keep the mind from wandering.
“At last, to the gulch below?” the man behind him said, a figure caped in dark with a voice to match.
When José glanced around, furtively of course, he saw the strangely clothed man's companion who notably enough was corpulent and ruddy, perhaps yet to see his fortieth year, in the garbs of what promptly gave away his status as a merchant or an adventurer or any variety of your average wayfaring money-hounder, spoken from the mouth of a humble priest. José knew his sight better than most and he knew doubly that his ears were far better at reckoning the character of all individuals—in this instance, covered in a lathe of morbidity and vanity, grotesque, alienation and isolation, decadent, indulgent and sadistic: “A man of your age might think so.”
The hooded man answered in turn: “And what is this age you speak of, this predecessor?”
“Of a violent land.”
“And so you think this land has perhaps fled its former status of violence, Albizzi? Kid me not, don't let the others have mirth at your expense, the people are flocking with their arms, turning ploughshares and scythes and sickels into swords. It hasn't changed, only that the fire becomes stronger by the decade.”
José recognized the name—could it be Rinaldo degli Albizzi, signore of Florence? What was a Florentine doing in Milan now, of all places?
“Keep your calm. . .” a brief pause, “what was your name, if I may ask again?”
“Tybern.”
“What we speak of, Tybern,” the name was said with the scorn one might attach to their voice when rebuking the advances of beggars, “is a matter of délicatesse.”
“Is that so?” and no more.
José looked at the lifeless horizon and the whistles of men and boats underneath and announced in a voice that none could hear: “Five moments more and then. . .” so his thoughts trailed off, keeping the curious conversation he'd overheard treasure'd in a misty corner of the mind.
AZUCENA IN THE innards of the city, its guts, which reeked of vinegary wine, rotten—or as the locals liked to say, fermenting—fishes, stale cheese and freshly baked flat bread taken from the oven, spices of different varieties in a space so cluttered as make it impossible to distinguish the individual flavors, of damp canals turned alive with algae and moving junk down the ebbs and flows of the waters and the motions of the boats—that which he'd used himself to cross into the city—, meat slathered in grease and cooked over fire, producing the familiar smell of burning fat which almost made the good priest's belly rumble, of sun-dried rats and birds carried cradled in the arms of beggars and the unfortunate looking to sell their salted goods to unwitting passersby for an unsurprisingly exorbitant price, of fresh grass and straw and gruel for the horses and beasts of burden, blood from the slaughterhouse, the stink of boiled leather being prepared at the tanning's, of soap and sweat from the men and the occasional musk of perfume, or perfume of musk, which offered reprieve from the gruel of sensory danza that the thriving polis offered at every screw and turn: “This is a new world,” and said with conviction and belief, which was true, of course, as time would've said. He last touched the Milanese ground—say, even the Lombardy dirt—when he was very young and at a time when the city hadn't been so much of the sprawl it was presently. There were changes, some to signal end of the folding century, now past or history, and he found himself lucky to witness them.
Luke's shop, or what he supposed it to be, was just along the vicelinum passway, hidden in the core of a gordian knot of buildings, narrowly positioned and densely packed, and people and the street itself which became alive in roiling motions of flying garbage, chamber pots, cutlery and instruments and sticks made of rosewood, ash, pine, something dead and whited and at least one chastity belt, which the priest managed to avoid with an agility he heretofore did not know he possessed. He crossed the fort fields where a fanfare was taking place—as to what, he didn't know—and the walls of human obstructions and the desire to indulge in wrath, temptations that is, against said obstructions, though he was well aware of his capabilities and limits: it was often said in the old college he used to work in, teaching students the gospel, that he resembled a fanning prey caught in the limeworks or a sulky youth when angry. He had no wish to allow such rumors to circumnavigate his life again.
LUKE WAS HANDLING a burnt quilt standing by the roadside, which had been watered thoroughly, when Azucena arrived at the scene. He had not changed much, except for grays in his hair and a longer beard, but not much. Or that would've been so if it were not for the fire: he was singed, missing his eyebrows, his skin turned shades of orange and tangerine, hemp apron tinted black with char. His abode behind him, what he also used as his workshop, was unharmed except for wisps of fire rising from the stone and wooden rooftop.
There were others standing around, gazing from the distance or minding their own business, keeping their distances, but the priest was the first to approach. He caught Luke's eyes and pointed at the aftermath of what he thought was a small and contained fire.
“I couldn't have known better,” Luke said. His shirt and hoses were both copper-green with curls of newly added blacks and old browns. “It was a fire, I think, got the eye of the devil hisself is all but, hea'en's be glad, don't've spread much everywhere save my home.”
They stood without speaking for a while, the blacksmith brushing dust off his body, the priest thinking but not thinking. He stared on as two merchants from the guild passed by, with their horses and slaves, and kept at it, studying the moving, energetic, sometimes dismal townsfolk and the crowd that had earlier formed which was dispersing to individual stations.
Luke rose and said, “So, what's your name?”
“José Azucena. I know yours, Luke.”
“Am I that famous?” and a laugh but not a flicker of recognition in his eyes. He did try his best however and José commended him for the effort. “Are you a priest?”
“That would be true. I'm looking for the church around here.”
“Many.”
“Many?”
“Father Gaspare's the one you're lookin for?”
“I am. Do you mind giving me the directions?” which he knew already.
Luke told him the way to the church and then added: “If you meet him, tell him to do something about Marion. Say he's back to his old ways.”
“Who's he?”
“A thief, my nephew, tryin to get out of it. Not very successfully.”
“Gaspare's responsible for him?”
“For a lot of things, at least, here.”
“Why?”
“Why indeed.”
“I mean, he's only. . . he's only a schoolman, isn't he?”
“Oh, he is. . . and that's why.”
THE LAST TIME Hache witnessed violence was during a brief tenure in an institution north of Italy somewhere around Hungary, before Malta which was relatively more passive compared to his earlier ventures with Torquemada and his Order in Spain. He was watching the daily congregation at the Matthias Church when an intruder entered with a bag of shit, a bag made from sinews which reflected his own earthy appearance, and tried to throw them at the archbishop John Kanizsai who was present at the time, possibly with that direct intention of harming him, as would one harm a river sluice by pissing down it. As to whose command that was done, and Hache did suspect a plot at hand underneath the openly shown naiveté of the new consolidation and the kingdom, it was likely Sigismund. Of course, he did not bother to pry much, only satisfy an annoyance born from the blood of that peasant that splattered his robes as hungarian bolts nailed him to the floor. It was far too sudden for him to react though everybody, even him, had seen it coming.
And he thought that same thing, right there in the cramped study of Gaspare, as Berto threw that punch at the otherwise older and perhaps more experienced man—as a denouement, shocking but not too unexpected, to their argument. He eyed the fallen figure and the triumphant but confused fellow inquisitor perched overneath. From that, of an introduction, to this, which was enough to sour his mood a touch—by not that great a margin but enough to keep away detachment.
“Ah, shit, now what do we do?” Berto said, looking at him.
He raised a brow. “Language, signore, is what I would say.” Then he shrugged. “It's not a matter of we, it's a matter of you—and it seems you have assailed that man at your own vicious conduct, vulgar as it was. I would've normally overseen such matters but for the fact that you're under signore Torquemada's commission, which I believe you will keep that in mind from now on. . . before you throw fists at people with primitive abandon, that is.”
He continued: “As for leadership, hierarchies—whatever term you prefer—, we're working for the Order. That's all there is to it,” and glancing at Gaspare on the ground—was he dead? or merely out cold?—, thinking about the possible consequences of this inconvenienience, “Any questions?”
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AnimeGenork
The Duck Overlord
Leonine Kaldwell
-
Such a Beautiful Sight
-
Full Name: Leonine Alexander Kaldwell
Nickname: Leo, Lee
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Bisexual
West or East: West -
After Every Hill We Climbed
-
Face Claim: Froy Gutierrez
Hair Color: Light Brown
Eye Color: Blue
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 150 lbs
Tattoos/Piercings/Etc:
West Tattoo on Lower Back
Distinguishing Features:
Just Look at That Face -
It's Never Been So Clear
-
Personality:
There are some who have claimed Leo must be from another planet. He is always having fun, always smiling, always willing to try something new. He wants to have fun more than anything else, if only to forget that he hates Ships Haven with a burning passion. If it were up to him, he would've left this town a long time ago. But so long as his brother remains here, he's stuck. So long as Leo's around, his younger brother won't have to suffer like he did, for that is the only unacceptable outcome for Leo.
Perhaps as a remnant from his childhood, there is a side of Leo that leaps out at the most surprising times. His friends often argue over the East side and what should be done about their insolence, their general awfulness to the West. When pressed for his opinion, Leo gave them the darkest glare they'd ever seen and said, "I don't give a flying fuck about those East kids." Leo has been hurt before by the West sides' unwavering determination to prove their worth, and he would rather stay out of it. This unfortunate incident with the mixing high schools puts a wrench in that plan of his. He would rather avoid having to interact with any East siders, if he can help it. But he's aware that's not too possible.
One could suppose that Leo's a big fan of forgetting. All his methods of fun are to forget the bad, forget the burning fires of hatred that are ever-present in Ships Haven. When night falls, Leo feels the most free, and he is often found on the rooftop of his own home, staring out at the town. If he had his way, he would never have to climb down from the view that helps him forget how utterly he and Ships Haven truly are.
Likes:
Rooftops, Climbing, Driving, Sunsets, His Brother
Dislikes:
Caring about the Feud, Giving a Flying Fuck, School, His Mother
Extra:
Leo got a guitar from an old friend of his father's. He hides it from his mother and his brother. -
And At the Top We Scream
-
Biography:
It's honestly a miracle Leo was born as healthy as he was, considering his mother didn't care enough to truly take care of him while he was in the womb. It was his father who talked her out of using drugs or drinking alcohol while pregnant, but everything else, to her, was fair game. When Leo was born, his father worked three jobs in an attempt to make ends meet, the only way a high school dropout like him could even conceive of stability. His mother constantly drank and smoked, paying little to no attention to her child. When his father was home, he would take care of baby Leo, giving him the love he craved from his mother.
Unfortunately, Leo's father ended up on the wrong side of one of the main gangs on the West side. One day, when Leo was three, he was on his way home from one of his three jobs when he was attacked. He died from internal bleeding before the paramedics arrived. When Leo's mother found out, she fell into despair. It was at this point she realized she was pregnant with Leo's younger brother.
When Lionel was born, Leo took it upon himself to protect his brother... as much as a three-year-old can figure how. Their mother was neglectful, but so long as Leo was there, Lion never got hurt by this. Leo provided all the love he ever needed. Leo was desperate to never let anyone see how broken their home was, and so he adopted his happy-go-lucky persona. In truth, however, all he ever wanted was to get out. To leave.
As he entered his teenage years, Leo figured out how to get onto the roof of their small, rundown house. He loved it up there, and he took to coming up there with Lion whenever their mother's drunkenness got particularly concerning. Ever since their father's death, she had been the one to work three jobs, and she slowly forgot her kids more and more. Leo knew he had to do everything he could to help his brother, and so he started doing odd jobs around the neighborhood. He even did odd jobs for those from the East side.
Due to his often dirty, disheveled appearance, whenever he was in the East, he was ridiculed. As he did some of his odd jobs around the town, he was even kicked or punched simply for coming from the West side. He never retaliated, however, because he knew, somewhere, that doing so would only hurt him further. It was around this time that Leo made it his goal to protect Lion from ever feeling this type of ridicule from anyone.
Leo has grown to hate his life at home. The more he allows his mother to forget them, the more she forgets, and the older Lion gets, the more he seems to cling to Leo. The pressure he feels to take care of his brother as well as make ends meet has gotten to him, and that is perhaps the sole reason he has taken to having fun whenever he can. He would love nothing more than to not care about his family.
Unfortunately for him, he cares a little too much.
Theme Song: "The View From Here" by We the Kings -
"I Really Like the View from Here"
-
Relationships:
Coding by
AnimeGenork
AnimeGenork
The least her mother could've done was understand that she didn't want to wear a skirt. She hated skirts with a burning passion, almost as much as she hated the idea of unicorns and rainbows. Oh, well, at least she'd managed to swap out all the fancy dresses Mom had put in her suitcases for her usual cargo pants, tanks tops, etc. That thought continued to make Skylie smirk as she wandered around the ship. She passed many rooms that radiated with different colors, but she didn't bother go inside them. A mix of colors, plus loud noises? She was not getting a headache today.
Eventually, she made it to the front deck, where there was quite the gathering of people her age. Their auras were mixes of colors, but they kept returning to red: anger and frustration. One boy was peering down into the water anxiously, while another girl chewed out a boy for heaven knows what. Both boys were shirtless for some reason, though one was still dripping. Maybe he'd been at the pool? Whatever, all that mattered was that apparently someone had fallen in the water. Whether it was the dark-haired boy's fault or not remained to be seen. Checking that her Eiffel tower keychain was securely in her duffel bag, she dropped it with a loud thunk! and walked over to the small group.
Normally, people would ask, "What's going on?" or something else relating concern. No, Skylie instead broke in with, "Can all of you shut up? Your colors are giving me a headache." Looking over the railing into the water below, Skylie sighed. "If you guys aren't going to do anything, I guess I'll have to." Clambering onto the railing, Skylie glared down at the water. She didn't have anything against the water itself, but rather, what she'd have to do with it after fetching the girl. With a sigh, she dove into the water, trying to remember if she could swim or not.
Once in the water, Skylie looked around, searching for the girl. A little ways below her was the girl, her fiery red hair floating around her like flames. Swimming over to the girl, Skylie wrapped her arms around her waist, kicking with all her might to swim to the surface. When her head broke through the water, she adjusted her grip on the girl, slapping her lightly on the cheek to see if she'd wake up. Unfortunately, she was out cold. Damn. Turning to look up at the deck she dove from, she narrowed her eyes and focused on the water surrounding her. Slowly, water droplets lifted from the ocean, rising to the side of the ship. They swirled in the air until finally there was a rainbow ladder--or, really, a ladder made of rainbows--scaling the height of the boat.
Wrapping the girl's arms around her shoulders and hooking her legs around her waist, she gripped the ladder with one hand, noting the brightness of the sun. If she didn't hurry, the ladder would dissipate into thin air. Skylie used all her agility as a former street urchin to climb the ladder, feeling the rungs disappear as soon as her feet left them. Her eyebrows knit together in determination until finally, she'd reached the railing she had dove off of minutes before. She pulled the upper half of her body over the railing, dropping the girl rather unceremoniously onto the deck. Skylie herself somehow flipped and landed in a crouch, breathing heavily. Standing up and wringing the water out of her hair, she glanced down at the girl. Her gaze flitted up to the other people around her. "I don't know what happened, but next time, don't just stand there freaking out. Do something about it." The words came out harshly, but she meant every word she said. Sitting around doing nothing got you nowhere, especially when someone's life was on the line.
With a yawn, Skylie scratched her head. "We should either go find a nurse or doctor, or give her CPR, quick, before it's too late." Being the girl she was, Skylie would've done it, but CPR was not in her repertoire of skills. And she wasn't going to carry that girl again.
Eventually, she made it to the front deck, where there was quite the gathering of people her age. Their auras were mixes of colors, but they kept returning to red: anger and frustration. One boy was peering down into the water anxiously, while another girl chewed out a boy for heaven knows what. Both boys were shirtless for some reason, though one was still dripping. Maybe he'd been at the pool? Whatever, all that mattered was that apparently someone had fallen in the water. Whether it was the dark-haired boy's fault or not remained to be seen. Checking that her Eiffel tower keychain was securely in her duffel bag, she dropped it with a loud thunk! and walked over to the small group.
Normally, people would ask, "What's going on?" or something else relating concern. No, Skylie instead broke in with, "Can all of you shut up? Your colors are giving me a headache." Looking over the railing into the water below, Skylie sighed. "If you guys aren't going to do anything, I guess I'll have to." Clambering onto the railing, Skylie glared down at the water. She didn't have anything against the water itself, but rather, what she'd have to do with it after fetching the girl. With a sigh, she dove into the water, trying to remember if she could swim or not.
Once in the water, Skylie looked around, searching for the girl. A little ways below her was the girl, her fiery red hair floating around her like flames. Swimming over to the girl, Skylie wrapped her arms around her waist, kicking with all her might to swim to the surface. When her head broke through the water, she adjusted her grip on the girl, slapping her lightly on the cheek to see if she'd wake up. Unfortunately, she was out cold. Damn. Turning to look up at the deck she dove from, she narrowed her eyes and focused on the water surrounding her. Slowly, water droplets lifted from the ocean, rising to the side of the ship. They swirled in the air until finally there was a rainbow ladder--or, really, a ladder made of rainbows--scaling the height of the boat.
Wrapping the girl's arms around her shoulders and hooking her legs around her waist, she gripped the ladder with one hand, noting the brightness of the sun. If she didn't hurry, the ladder would dissipate into thin air. Skylie used all her agility as a former street urchin to climb the ladder, feeling the rungs disappear as soon as her feet left them. Her eyebrows knit together in determination until finally, she'd reached the railing she had dove off of minutes before. She pulled the upper half of her body over the railing, dropping the girl rather unceremoniously onto the deck. Skylie herself somehow flipped and landed in a crouch, breathing heavily. Standing up and wringing the water out of her hair, she glanced down at the girl. Her gaze flitted up to the other people around her. "I don't know what happened, but next time, don't just stand there freaking out. Do something about it." The words came out harshly, but she meant every word she said. Sitting around doing nothing got you nowhere, especially when someone's life was on the line.
With a yawn, Skylie scratched her head. "We should either go find a nurse or doctor, or give her CPR, quick, before it's too late." Being the girl she was, Skylie would've done it, but CPR was not in her repertoire of skills. And she wasn't going to carry that girl again.
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travelbypages
dog mom
Name: Elliot Covington
Nickname: Ellie
Age: 18
Gender: female
Sexuality: hetero
West or East: west
Face Claim: Kaya Scodelario
Eye Color: Blue
Hair Color:Brown
Height/Weight: 5'7", 115 lbs
Body Type: Naturally thin.
Her only tattoos are stick and pokes that were done at parties while she was stoned or drunk.
Theme Song:
Likes: Parties, music, escape.
Dislikes: Loneliness, quiet, fake people.
Personality: Ellie is the life of the party. She is outgoing, hyper, chatty, and likes to lift peoples spirits. But, there is a side of Ellie that people don't usually see. Silently she struggles with depression and abuses substances to make herself the happy and excitable person everybody sees. She goes to parties to escape her feelings. Her mom and her mothers boyfriends don't help either. Ellie is always hiding abuse taken from them on her body.
Bio: Ellie's life used to be great. She had a huge house, everyone in her family got along and they all lived in a happy bliss. But then her dad cheated on her mom with his secretary at the car dealership he ran. Things went downhill from there. Her parents could barely look at each other until he eventually left with his new girl and their new child. Ellie's mother got into drugs soon after. They lost the house, she lost her siblings to the foster care system. Things haven't been the same since.
In the new old trailer, Ellie does her best to ignore her mom and the conquests. Unable to see her siblings and with her moms boyfriends abuse, Ellie has developed a heavy depression, and to cope she parties. Drugs have also become a personal part of her life. She dreams of getting out of the town to do big things with her life.
Relationships: N/A [until accepted]
Rosalee could feel her eyes slowly shutting. It was Friday, and she could barely stay awake during the two hour lecture. What kind of person would want to stand in front of a class of over 500, and talk for two hours? Crazy people, that's who. With a yawn she did a small stretch before sitting up straighter in her seat in attempt to wake herself up. Only ten more minutes. Her friend beside her seemed to feel the complete opposite. Her eyes were wide, her foot was tapping, and she looked ready to bolt. The two girls were going to the club that sat across the street from the campus later that night, and Alice, Rosie's friend, couldn't be more excited. Rosie didn't know why she was even going. She had a twenty page essay due for the Monday, and Alice would just take off with some random anyway.
When the lecture came to a close, Rosie stood and hooked her backpack around her shoulder. Her last lecture for the evening was now finished, and Alice was basically dragging her out the door to get back to the dorm they shared. Why would she want to start getting ready now? It was only 8 o'clock. With an eye roll, Rosalee followed her overly excited friend. "I don't even know what I'll wear." She told Alice as they stood in their tiny dorm room, Alice shuffling through the dozens of party dresses that hoarded her closet. "You're just going to ditch me anyway" Rosie said, her tone bored.
"I will not ditch you!" Alice said defensively, standing in the mirror, holding multiple dresses up to her body, before eventually picking out a short navy blue dress. "Here," she paused, grabbing a dress from her closet, handing it over to Rosie, "this will look hot on you, and I guarantee you'll get laid" She said in a triumphant tone.
With another roll of her eyes, Rosie stood and pulled the made up outfit on and glanced in the mirror. She did look good. Two hours later, when Alice was done both Rosie and her own makeup, the girls were off to the busy bar. Right off the bat, there were a ton of college students there, with the odd Local here and there. If you had asked Rosalee to come to this bar two years ago, she would have laughed in your face. Now, she is one of these people. The one's who are dragged out every night, consuming alcohol or whatever smoke was offered to her. She wasn't this person years ago, but wanting and craving adventure changes a person. Rosalee had made it her goal to say no as little as possible. So far, she has been succeeding at her goal.
After grabbing a drink at the bar, Rosie sat herself at a table that was luckily empty, and crossed one leg over the other, bringing her drink to her pink lips. Already, Alice was gone off and dancing with some guy. It was weird how the two girls were friends. They were completely opposite in every way... But I guess roommates sometimes have no choice but to be friends. As the night went on, Rosalee could feel herself getting a little more drunk, and brave. Eventually she found herself on the dance floor where she happily danced with Alice. It wasn't until Alice slipped away where Rosie could feel herself become a little shy. Backing up, she started to make her way off the dance floor to grab herself another drink.
When the lecture came to a close, Rosie stood and hooked her backpack around her shoulder. Her last lecture for the evening was now finished, and Alice was basically dragging her out the door to get back to the dorm they shared. Why would she want to start getting ready now? It was only 8 o'clock. With an eye roll, Rosalee followed her overly excited friend. "I don't even know what I'll wear." She told Alice as they stood in their tiny dorm room, Alice shuffling through the dozens of party dresses that hoarded her closet. "You're just going to ditch me anyway" Rosie said, her tone bored.
"I will not ditch you!" Alice said defensively, standing in the mirror, holding multiple dresses up to her body, before eventually picking out a short navy blue dress. "Here," she paused, grabbing a dress from her closet, handing it over to Rosie, "this will look hot on you, and I guarantee you'll get laid" She said in a triumphant tone.
With another roll of her eyes, Rosie stood and pulled the made up outfit on and glanced in the mirror. She did look good. Two hours later, when Alice was done both Rosie and her own makeup, the girls were off to the busy bar. Right off the bat, there were a ton of college students there, with the odd Local here and there. If you had asked Rosalee to come to this bar two years ago, she would have laughed in your face. Now, she is one of these people. The one's who are dragged out every night, consuming alcohol or whatever smoke was offered to her. She wasn't this person years ago, but wanting and craving adventure changes a person. Rosalee had made it her goal to say no as little as possible. So far, she has been succeeding at her goal.
After grabbing a drink at the bar, Rosie sat herself at a table that was luckily empty, and crossed one leg over the other, bringing her drink to her pink lips. Already, Alice was gone off and dancing with some guy. It was weird how the two girls were friends. They were completely opposite in every way... But I guess roommates sometimes have no choice but to be friends. As the night went on, Rosalee could feel herself getting a little more drunk, and brave. Eventually she found herself on the dance floor where she happily danced with Alice. It wasn't until Alice slipped away where Rosie could feel herself become a little shy. Backing up, she started to make her way off the dance floor to grab herself another drink.
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Akaelin
"Wha-?"
Elliot Scarborough
Nickname: (None)
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Heterosexual
West or East: West
Face Claim: Ciara Bravo
Eye Colour: Brown
Hair Colour: Brown
Height: 159cm / 5'2
Weight: 54kg / 119lbs
Body Type: Petite
Tattoos / Piercings: One stud in left ear, one small hoop in right ear.
Theme Song Sounds Like Help - Austin Basham
Extras: Personal Diary
Likes
> Music
> Being the company of animals
> Star-gazing
> Walking through countryside roads, usually alone
Dislikes
> People who force others to do something they aren't willing to do
> Insects, particularly arachnids
> Two-faced personalities
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Heterosexual
West or East: West
Face Claim: Ciara Bravo
Eye Colour: Brown
Hair Colour: Brown
Height: 159cm / 5'2
Weight: 54kg / 119lbs
Body Type: Petite
Tattoos / Piercings: One stud in left ear, one small hoop in right ear.
Theme Song Sounds Like Help - Austin Basham
Extras: Personal Diary
Likes
> Music
> Being the company of animals
> Star-gazing
> Walking through countryside roads, usually alone
Dislikes
> People who force others to do something they aren't willing to do
> Insects, particularly arachnids
> Two-faced personalities
Personality: Generally a quiet girl, she keeps most of her words and thoughts to herself to interpret and expand. She does not smile much, but albeit this cold appearance, she shares a genre of kindness that her peers rarely displayed to her. Elliot is fragile on the inside, and is afraid of many things, from abandonment to betrayal. She believes that it is much better to be not noticed at all than being disliked by everyone, and she would be perfectly content with being the silhouette in the back corner.
She is one to always try her best, no matter what it is. She's even willing to do things for those who have a distaste for her, if they will leave her alone. As she does not enjoy the idea of being lazy, she tends to be productive no matter who she is with, as she does not meet many acquaintances anyways. Elliot is also observant, and is meticulous with every detail on absolutely anything; people's appearance, attitude, their fashion style, so on.
Biography:
Relationships: N/A
She is one to always try her best, no matter what it is. She's even willing to do things for those who have a distaste for her, if they will leave her alone. As she does not enjoy the idea of being lazy, she tends to be productive no matter who she is with, as she does not meet many acquaintances anyways. Elliot is also observant, and is meticulous with every detail on absolutely anything; people's appearance, attitude, their fashion style, so on.
Biography:
As Elliot's father died before she was born from drug overdose, she was raised by her mother and sister Tasha who was 3 years older than herself. She initially grew up as a somewhat normal neighbourhood, and her mother did her best to raise the two daughters alone along with hauling a part time job. It was tough, and Elliot was very appreciative of her mother for what she did as she grew up. Her relationship with her sister... wasn't so great. Her mother seemed to favour Elliot over Tasha, giving more treats and fed her more quality food. As a result, Tasha rarely communicated through to her own sister, and considered her next to a stranger in her life. They never shared an article of clothing, never made eye contact, and never offered one another assistance. But Elliot never fully understood why.
As she grew older, her mother's perfectionism of Elliot increased dramatically. She would force her to always dress neatly, eat as little as possible to stay at the lowest healthiest weight as she believed it be "more beautiful", and often verbally attacked her so that she would stay disciplined. Tasha watched as her sister was shouted around the household, and listened to the comments that her own mother would make, but she did not speak a word. And so Elliot's mentality grew worse and worse every month, believing that she was not good enough and never would be good enough. That she wasn't good enough for her mother or her sister who never talked to her, and that she was the reason that her father had took a drug overdose. She would allow herself little room except perfection and flawlessness, but this in turn made her an outcast. Her peers saw her as someone who belonged to the East side, someone who is not one of them. Not one of the "cool" ones.
Overtime, Elliot's body was growing extremely fatigued. It was starved of nutrients, muscle and energy, and her mind was in no better place. She would not allow herself to eat regularly, and was compulsively studying and working hard to earn money and succeed in her education. All the while her mother thought she was finally becoming her true daughter. The daughter she always wanted; pretty, young and talented.
The day she fainted in school and carried to A&E was the day her life changed, but she isn't sure if it was for better or worse. Diagnosed with anorexia and depression, her life felt even more out of control. She considered herself to be no longer a "normal" person, no longer "perfect". Every time Elliot looked into the mirror, everything was distorted. Her mother refused to believe that she had anorexia, and simply told the doctors that she was fine the way she was. That she was just tired and got little sleep before an exam, and so she fainted. But at this point, Elliot lost most previous respect she had for her mother. A few weeks later, she would realise just how cruel her mother had been. How controlling and demanding she had been, and how much happiness that she took from Elliot. And the fact that Tasha did nothing. Nothing. She was angry, frustrated, resentful. But she always held the belief that somewhere out in the world, there will always be someone who was suffering more than her. So she sealed her mouth, and did not complain.
Elliot spent a lot of time in the inpatient ward. She met a few like herself, although the treatment that she received was not adequate. The nurses paid no heed to individual needs, and treated everyone as if they were deformed and strange beings. She spent a lot of time alone, roaming the halls or taking herself walks in the countryside to ease her mind (although being monitored 24/7 was not particularly helpful). As her weight stabilised, the medical team finally agreed to let her go back to school. Elliot proceeded to pass school with flying colours, although she no longer worked to make her mother happy. This time, she was determined to make herself content.
As she grew older, her mother's perfectionism of Elliot increased dramatically. She would force her to always dress neatly, eat as little as possible to stay at the lowest healthiest weight as she believed it be "more beautiful", and often verbally attacked her so that she would stay disciplined. Tasha watched as her sister was shouted around the household, and listened to the comments that her own mother would make, but she did not speak a word. And so Elliot's mentality grew worse and worse every month, believing that she was not good enough and never would be good enough. That she wasn't good enough for her mother or her sister who never talked to her, and that she was the reason that her father had took a drug overdose. She would allow herself little room except perfection and flawlessness, but this in turn made her an outcast. Her peers saw her as someone who belonged to the East side, someone who is not one of them. Not one of the "cool" ones.
Overtime, Elliot's body was growing extremely fatigued. It was starved of nutrients, muscle and energy, and her mind was in no better place. She would not allow herself to eat regularly, and was compulsively studying and working hard to earn money and succeed in her education. All the while her mother thought she was finally becoming her true daughter. The daughter she always wanted; pretty, young and talented.
The day she fainted in school and carried to A&E was the day her life changed, but she isn't sure if it was for better or worse. Diagnosed with anorexia and depression, her life felt even more out of control. She considered herself to be no longer a "normal" person, no longer "perfect". Every time Elliot looked into the mirror, everything was distorted. Her mother refused to believe that she had anorexia, and simply told the doctors that she was fine the way she was. That she was just tired and got little sleep before an exam, and so she fainted. But at this point, Elliot lost most previous respect she had for her mother. A few weeks later, she would realise just how cruel her mother had been. How controlling and demanding she had been, and how much happiness that she took from Elliot. And the fact that Tasha did nothing. Nothing. She was angry, frustrated, resentful. But she always held the belief that somewhere out in the world, there will always be someone who was suffering more than her. So she sealed her mouth, and did not complain.
Elliot spent a lot of time in the inpatient ward. She met a few like herself, although the treatment that she received was not adequate. The nurses paid no heed to individual needs, and treated everyone as if they were deformed and strange beings. She spent a lot of time alone, roaming the halls or taking herself walks in the countryside to ease her mind (although being monitored 24/7 was not particularly helpful). As her weight stabilised, the medical team finally agreed to let her go back to school. Elliot proceeded to pass school with flying colours, although she no longer worked to make her mother happy. This time, she was determined to make herself content.
Relationships: N/A
Birds chirped, ironic as it may sound. The sunlight was a bit too bright outside, even with the curtains drawn. What was the point of staying in this godforbidden room? It was lonely, the heaters were broken, and her bedside drawer was filled with soggy tissues full of her own tears. Sigh. Elliot wasn't even sure if she preferred the company of her nurse or her own mother.
Everyday felt the goddamn same in this inpatient facility. Wake up, use the bathroom while someone literally monitors you doing so, have twenty exact minutes to eat breakfast, then later snacks, then another timed meal, then snacks, then dinner, and then repeat. Just eat... eat... and eat. Nothing else. The very one thing that she could control when she wasn't at school, she could no longer control. Never mind her inability to socialise like an ordinary person, she just wanted to have herself to herself, you know? She was never that person who bought herself a bunch of clothes and bragged about who she slept with, or about her new phone that was the latest in the market. She just never realised that she never wanted anything for herself until the doctors asked her what kind of a person she wished to become. Her mind had went blank, and even though the constant reminders from her mother that she would become a lawyer would pop up in her mind, she did not say a word.
Anyways, you get the gist. Elliot wishes to leave this place as soon as she can, get back to school, and just have a purpose in her life again. It's not like she would get many visitors or new friends in the facility, especially not even from her own family.
Let's just wait another day. Just live each day on its own. If I can choose to die today, I can choose to die tomorrow. So another day, Elliot.
Everyday felt the goddamn same in this inpatient facility. Wake up, use the bathroom while someone literally monitors you doing so, have twenty exact minutes to eat breakfast, then later snacks, then another timed meal, then snacks, then dinner, and then repeat. Just eat... eat... and eat. Nothing else. The very one thing that she could control when she wasn't at school, she could no longer control. Never mind her inability to socialise like an ordinary person, she just wanted to have herself to herself, you know? She was never that person who bought herself a bunch of clothes and bragged about who she slept with, or about her new phone that was the latest in the market. She just never realised that she never wanted anything for herself until the doctors asked her what kind of a person she wished to become. Her mind had went blank, and even though the constant reminders from her mother that she would become a lawyer would pop up in her mind, she did not say a word.
Anyways, you get the gist. Elliot wishes to leave this place as soon as she can, get back to school, and just have a purpose in her life again. It's not like she would get many visitors or new friends in the facility, especially not even from her own family.
Let's just wait another day. Just live each day on its own. If I can choose to die today, I can choose to die tomorrow. So another day, Elliot.
"Forget it. I'm fine."
codedbycrucialstar
frumpkinisgod
state of flux
Caleb Amoruso
Name: Caleb Marcio Amoruso
Nickname: Cay
Gender: Man
Age: 18
Grade: Junior
Side: West
Face Claim: Elliot Fletcher
Ethnicity: Italian American
Sexuality: Bisexual
Appearance:
Caleb Amoruso is, on a good day, five foot five. He is pretty fit from the his years on the swim team and conditioning, but not overly so. His skin is lightly tan and his hair is curly and dark brown. His jaw is rounded, and his lips have a slight heart shape. He has a button nose and grows facial hair above his lips, on his jaw and chin, and somewhat on his cheeks. His eyes are a medium brown, verging on lighter than darker. His eyes are forward set and wider near the cornea and wane to the edge. He has piercings in both his ears, but no others.
Personality:
Caleb is a free spirit with a bit of a disregard for social convention. Even though he is extremely energetic, he has a great capacity to read between the lines and identify the subtleties. He likes to appear somewhat clueless, but he see often sees the world through a prism of others emotions. To Caleb, everything has a deeper meaning, but a good bit of the time he somewhat forgets about it in hopes of keeping his happy go lucky image.
Caleb loves to make connections with people which sometimes makes him somewhat of a default leader- not that he wants to be. He also tends to try to therapize all of his friends, often to deflect from discussion of his own. He reads into everything, even if he presents with his high pace personality, and sometimes it leads to cycles of overthinking.
Since he is so fast paced, he either has extreme focus or none at all. Caleb ends up a loose cannon in groups when work needs to get done. He can focus more easily on humanities or history relates subjects in school. When he's either too focused, too stressed, or not focused enough, he dunks himself on a quiet beach and swims until he's too tired to keep going.
Caleb is extremely curious, often dazing off to explore interests in his thoughts or hyper focusing on what's in front of him. He doesn't have a very strong impulse control, so he just jumps into things, whether it be: exploring a rundown warehouse, introducing himself to all the freshmen, or ordering five pounds of frozen yogurt cookie dough topping.
Nickname: Cay
Gender: Man
Age: 18
Grade: Junior
Side: West
Face Claim: Elliot Fletcher
Ethnicity: Italian American
Sexuality: Bisexual
Appearance:
Caleb Amoruso is, on a good day, five foot five. He is pretty fit from the his years on the swim team and conditioning, but not overly so. His skin is lightly tan and his hair is curly and dark brown. His jaw is rounded, and his lips have a slight heart shape. He has a button nose and grows facial hair above his lips, on his jaw and chin, and somewhat on his cheeks. His eyes are a medium brown, verging on lighter than darker. His eyes are forward set and wider near the cornea and wane to the edge. He has piercings in both his ears, but no others.
Personality:
Caleb is a free spirit with a bit of a disregard for social convention. Even though he is extremely energetic, he has a great capacity to read between the lines and identify the subtleties. He likes to appear somewhat clueless, but he see often sees the world through a prism of others emotions. To Caleb, everything has a deeper meaning, but a good bit of the time he somewhat forgets about it in hopes of keeping his happy go lucky image.
Caleb loves to make connections with people which sometimes makes him somewhat of a default leader- not that he wants to be. He also tends to try to therapize all of his friends, often to deflect from discussion of his own. He reads into everything, even if he presents with his high pace personality, and sometimes it leads to cycles of overthinking.
Since he is so fast paced, he either has extreme focus or none at all. Caleb ends up a loose cannon in groups when work needs to get done. He can focus more easily on humanities or history relates subjects in school. When he's either too focused, too stressed, or not focused enough, he dunks himself on a quiet beach and swims until he's too tired to keep going.
Caleb is extremely curious, often dazing off to explore interests in his thoughts or hyper focusing on what's in front of him. He doesn't have a very strong impulse control, so he just jumps into things, whether it be: exploring a rundown warehouse, introducing himself to all the freshmen, or ordering five pounds of frozen yogurt cookie dough topping.
Themes:
Reyna Alicia Amoruso was born on February 22 XXXX to Ambrosia and David Amoruso in Dallas, Texas. Reyna from the start was precocious, she hardly stopped moving and would make noises incessantly. She started crawling and walking and talking about a month before the usual milestones, and by the time she could form a complete sentence at 28 months, her baby sister Maria was born. Two years later her baby brother Jackson was born followed by the youngest Isaac. Reyna loved her siblings, and everything was picture perfect, or it should have been.
When Reyna was six and began attending the elementary school, where she was known as Rey. She fit in immediately with the boys. She was rough and tumble, picking up bugs with her bare hands and playing tackle football. In about third grade, Michael Deacon told her that she couldn't play with them anymore, because she was a girl. Just like that, the illusion was gone.
Rey tried to hang out with her friends, but Michael had enlisted all of them. So she did the only thing she could do... Steal their soccer ball and throw it into the carpool line. Thus began Rey's slow descent into the trouble maker. She would steal their comic books, steal their video games, and pop their balls. Eventually she was in the principal's office enough that they asked her parents to transfer her out.
Rey was moved to a new school for fourth grade and everything seemed to be okay again. She made friends with this group of guys and a couple girls. She loved her friends and felt free to meet new people again, but the other boys in the class still treated her weirdly. Though now she had a new enemy, the other girls. When the girls brought "their box of special things" they brought hairpins and shiny stones. Rey would bring deer bones and beetles. She was often teased for being gross by the girls and a tomboy by the boys, but at least she had her friends.
Rey had her period in sixth grade. Everything felt wrong. She looked at her body and she knew then that something, for sure, was wrong. She told no one.
In Seventh grade, she started acting up again, but this time a bit worse. She was spraying graffiti across town, lifting things from kids lockers, and skipping classes. Rey was angry, so angry. She felt wrong and strange and horrible.
Then Rey met Alana. Alana caught Rey trying to pilfer her locker and asked her out on a date. Rey was floored and automatically said yes. Alana became a constant companion in her life. Alana identified Rey as a butch, and it clicked more than anything before. They cut her hair in Rey's bathroom and she started wearing compression bras. Alana and Rey stopped dating at the end of seventh grade. Rey had calmed down and wasn't risky enough anymore, but Rey was fine with that.
Then in eighth grade, one of Rey's lesbian friends came out as trans. Rey was befuddled and didn't think much of it. Then she saw what it meant. Transgender: Female to Male. If butch had clicked into place, this had locked itself in place. Rey knew now.
It was like a weight off his chest. He started by telling his oldest friends. Almost every one of them was accepting, and he could begin being his authentic self. He renamed himself: Caleb. He told his siblings. Maria was happy he was happy. Jackson was not surprised. Isaac didn't care. By the end of eighth grade, he chanced telling his mother. She was utterly confused, but saw how much happier he had been recently. She told him she'd support him, though she wanted him to think about it. Caleb told his father a month later. The reaction was more contentious, but love overpowers ignorance.
Caleb began period blockers in ninth grade and went into his high school trans. Many of his friends had followed him, and everything was reasonably easy, albeit the occasional southern "gentleman." He began testosterone at the end of the year and everything was picture perfect.
Then his family uprooted to Ships Haven for his father's work. Caleb was in a new school, but he was determined to make this work. He drove to make new friends and was as friendly as he could be. Caleb joined the pseudo gsa, tech theatre, and a dnd team. He participated in swim team, in love with the water and the exhilaration. While he wasn't popular, he wasn't unpopular. He was everyone's friend, or at least he tried to be.
He loved the west side. The kids were crazy. Life was fast paced. There were people of all sorts. On the west side, he didn't feel like an anomaly. Then the fireworks popped and now he's uprooted once again. He doesn't even know if this place has a gender neutral restroom. At least he's not alone this time, and who knows, maybe he'll make friends.
Family:
Mother Ambrosia 40
Father David 41
Himself Caleb 18
Sister Maria 16
Brother Jackson 13
Brother Isaac 11
Flash in the Dark
Icarus
What's Up Danger
Likes:
Swimming | People | Music | Freedom | Animals | Children | Painting | Writing | Video Games | Humanities
Dislikes:
Most STEM Classes | Silence | Regulation | Drawing | Planning
Extra Info:
Drives a 2008 Toyota Corolla
Has a Pit Bull mix named Dodgeball
Instacart driver
Biography:Icarus
What's Up Danger
Likes:
Swimming | People | Music | Freedom | Animals | Children | Painting | Writing | Video Games | Humanities
Dislikes:
Most STEM Classes | Silence | Regulation | Drawing | Planning
Extra Info:
Drives a 2008 Toyota Corolla
Has a Pit Bull mix named Dodgeball
Instacart driver
Reyna Alicia Amoruso was born on February 22 XXXX to Ambrosia and David Amoruso in Dallas, Texas. Reyna from the start was precocious, she hardly stopped moving and would make noises incessantly. She started crawling and walking and talking about a month before the usual milestones, and by the time she could form a complete sentence at 28 months, her baby sister Maria was born. Two years later her baby brother Jackson was born followed by the youngest Isaac. Reyna loved her siblings, and everything was picture perfect, or it should have been.
When Reyna was six and began attending the elementary school, where she was known as Rey. She fit in immediately with the boys. She was rough and tumble, picking up bugs with her bare hands and playing tackle football. In about third grade, Michael Deacon told her that she couldn't play with them anymore, because she was a girl. Just like that, the illusion was gone.
Rey tried to hang out with her friends, but Michael had enlisted all of them. So she did the only thing she could do... Steal their soccer ball and throw it into the carpool line. Thus began Rey's slow descent into the trouble maker. She would steal their comic books, steal their video games, and pop their balls. Eventually she was in the principal's office enough that they asked her parents to transfer her out.
Rey was moved to a new school for fourth grade and everything seemed to be okay again. She made friends with this group of guys and a couple girls. She loved her friends and felt free to meet new people again, but the other boys in the class still treated her weirdly. Though now she had a new enemy, the other girls. When the girls brought "their box of special things" they brought hairpins and shiny stones. Rey would bring deer bones and beetles. She was often teased for being gross by the girls and a tomboy by the boys, but at least she had her friends.
Rey had her period in sixth grade. Everything felt wrong. She looked at her body and she knew then that something, for sure, was wrong. She told no one.
In Seventh grade, she started acting up again, but this time a bit worse. She was spraying graffiti across town, lifting things from kids lockers, and skipping classes. Rey was angry, so angry. She felt wrong and strange and horrible.
Then Rey met Alana. Alana caught Rey trying to pilfer her locker and asked her out on a date. Rey was floored and automatically said yes. Alana became a constant companion in her life. Alana identified Rey as a butch, and it clicked more than anything before. They cut her hair in Rey's bathroom and she started wearing compression bras. Alana and Rey stopped dating at the end of seventh grade. Rey had calmed down and wasn't risky enough anymore, but Rey was fine with that.
Then in eighth grade, one of Rey's lesbian friends came out as trans. Rey was befuddled and didn't think much of it. Then she saw what it meant. Transgender: Female to Male. If butch had clicked into place, this had locked itself in place. Rey knew now.
It was like a weight off his chest. He started by telling his oldest friends. Almost every one of them was accepting, and he could begin being his authentic self. He renamed himself: Caleb. He told his siblings. Maria was happy he was happy. Jackson was not surprised. Isaac didn't care. By the end of eighth grade, he chanced telling his mother. She was utterly confused, but saw how much happier he had been recently. She told him she'd support him, though she wanted him to think about it. Caleb told his father a month later. The reaction was more contentious, but love overpowers ignorance.
Caleb began period blockers in ninth grade and went into his high school trans. Many of his friends had followed him, and everything was reasonably easy, albeit the occasional southern "gentleman." He began testosterone at the end of the year and everything was picture perfect.
Then his family uprooted to Ships Haven for his father's work. Caleb was in a new school, but he was determined to make this work. He drove to make new friends and was as friendly as he could be. Caleb joined the pseudo gsa, tech theatre, and a dnd team. He participated in swim team, in love with the water and the exhilaration. While he wasn't popular, he wasn't unpopular. He was everyone's friend, or at least he tried to be.
He loved the west side. The kids were crazy. Life was fast paced. There were people of all sorts. On the west side, he didn't feel like an anomaly. Then the fireworks popped and now he's uprooted once again. He doesn't even know if this place has a gender neutral restroom. At least he's not alone this time, and who knows, maybe he'll make friends.
Family:
Mother Ambrosia 40
Father David 41
Himself Caleb 18
Sister Maria 16
Brother Jackson 13
Brother Isaac 11
"Likelihood this goes wrong: reasonably high. Likelihood that I'm gonna do it anyway: extremely high."
codedbycrucialstar
Caleb doesn’t really understand theatre kids.
He does tech, sure, and maybe he spends all of his time in the theatre anyway, but he’ll never really understand the actor psyche. And what Caleb really doesn’t get is how loud they are.
One could be working in their own bubble, completely silent and focused in the scene shop and suddenly hear the outburst of screams and singing through industrial stage doors and go, “Well, guess they’re warming up.” And don't even get him started on how asinine the Red Leather Yellow Leather tongue twister is. Coffee Pot is much better.
Another thing that he doesn’t get is how theatre kids can cause so much destruction. Everywhere they go they leave a trail of discarded wrappers and lost scripts. They don’t really realize that a broken prop means twelve straight hours of work for a poor tech kid later. The spotlight missing them is as a result of them missing the strike, or the sound cue coming late is because they didn’t say their line into it loud enough. It’s not often a tech kid snoozing, like the actors believe.
Caleb may not understand them, but he loves them.
Techies live in a world of darkness and labor, but it really is all for the actors. For Caleb, the bright tornados of actors never fail to keep him busy. Keeping busy is very important, sometimes you would rather be busy than realize your darker thoughts.
Though sometimes they keep him too busy. Currently, he's tackling the issue of repainting the platforms black after the some kid decided that neon yellow was a good idea for a color motif. The two-by-fours hadn't been striped for reuse since the tech teacher wanted to keep the structures for next time, since they were pretty solid work.
The platforms are stacked by height near the shop door, a door quite like a garage door but far taller so one can bring larger set pieces in and out. Below him and filling the rest of the room, except the meeting nook in the back right. There are closets, two on each side. The ones on the left hold paint storage and the other holds the "vanilla tools." The doors on the right lead to the power tool storage and the largest storage room for props. There is another garage door leading to the parking lot and dumpster bins outside directly opposite of the shop door.
Caleb hears someone speeding down the stairs which lead down from the loft on the left. It holds extra furniture and prop storage, so of course Caleb's favorite props person comes careening down the stairs. Mia's frizzy black hair is a mess and she's running down kicking up her oversized sneakers. Her olive skin, pale from spending her days in the shop, is flushed red. Her smile is wide and all her crooked teeth show. She seems thrilled, and that makes Caleb happy, but frankly a little afraid.
“Hey Caleb, when you finish up, Kai says we can watch the audition stuff!” Mia calls up at him.
Oh, that. Of course.
Caleb looks over the edge and sees Mia practically vibrating with excitement. She’s bouncing up and down with nervous anticipation. Since she is a true theatre geek at heart, auditions never fail to send her over the edge.
The two of them lead the scenic design team. People often say that they’re an odd pair, but Caleb honestly would never trade Mia for anything. She’s saved his ass plenty of times, and he’s done it a bit in return. That and the fact that they’re each other’s best friends.
Mia does propwork, since she has such a good eye for finding props at antique, thrift, and variety stores. She often gets so excited that she leaves the antique stores and such with the item in hand without paying. And so Caleb often accompanies her for the sole purpose of making sure she pays for everything, and if she forgets, talking their way out of getting fined or arrested. They usually go get lunch after they search, piling all the props in the back of Caleb's car.
Caleb is head of set design. When the show rolls around, he's often covered head to toe in splashes of paint and saw dust. He spends all of that time locked away in the scene shop or buried in graph paper creating new set schematics. Caleb has a tendency to forget the rest of the world exists when he gets excited, so Mia has taken up the mantle of reminding him to eat, often actually covering the lunch cost when he forgets money too. Sometimes they sit in mutual silence just painting and Caleb never feels more calm.
He does tech, sure, and maybe he spends all of his time in the theatre anyway, but he’ll never really understand the actor psyche. And what Caleb really doesn’t get is how loud they are.
One could be working in their own bubble, completely silent and focused in the scene shop and suddenly hear the outburst of screams and singing through industrial stage doors and go, “Well, guess they’re warming up.” And don't even get him started on how asinine the Red Leather Yellow Leather tongue twister is. Coffee Pot is much better.
Another thing that he doesn’t get is how theatre kids can cause so much destruction. Everywhere they go they leave a trail of discarded wrappers and lost scripts. They don’t really realize that a broken prop means twelve straight hours of work for a poor tech kid later. The spotlight missing them is as a result of them missing the strike, or the sound cue coming late is because they didn’t say their line into it loud enough. It’s not often a tech kid snoozing, like the actors believe.
Caleb may not understand them, but he loves them.
Techies live in a world of darkness and labor, but it really is all for the actors. For Caleb, the bright tornados of actors never fail to keep him busy. Keeping busy is very important, sometimes you would rather be busy than realize your darker thoughts.
Though sometimes they keep him too busy. Currently, he's tackling the issue of repainting the platforms black after the some kid decided that neon yellow was a good idea for a color motif. The two-by-fours hadn't been striped for reuse since the tech teacher wanted to keep the structures for next time, since they were pretty solid work.
The platforms are stacked by height near the shop door, a door quite like a garage door but far taller so one can bring larger set pieces in and out. Below him and filling the rest of the room, except the meeting nook in the back right. There are closets, two on each side. The ones on the left hold paint storage and the other holds the "vanilla tools." The doors on the right lead to the power tool storage and the largest storage room for props. There is another garage door leading to the parking lot and dumpster bins outside directly opposite of the shop door.
Caleb hears someone speeding down the stairs which lead down from the loft on the left. It holds extra furniture and prop storage, so of course Caleb's favorite props person comes careening down the stairs. Mia's frizzy black hair is a mess and she's running down kicking up her oversized sneakers. Her olive skin, pale from spending her days in the shop, is flushed red. Her smile is wide and all her crooked teeth show. She seems thrilled, and that makes Caleb happy, but frankly a little afraid.
“Hey Caleb, when you finish up, Kai says we can watch the audition stuff!” Mia calls up at him.
Oh, that. Of course.
Caleb looks over the edge and sees Mia practically vibrating with excitement. She’s bouncing up and down with nervous anticipation. Since she is a true theatre geek at heart, auditions never fail to send her over the edge.
The two of them lead the scenic design team. People often say that they’re an odd pair, but Caleb honestly would never trade Mia for anything. She’s saved his ass plenty of times, and he’s done it a bit in return. That and the fact that they’re each other’s best friends.
Mia does propwork, since she has such a good eye for finding props at antique, thrift, and variety stores. She often gets so excited that she leaves the antique stores and such with the item in hand without paying. And so Caleb often accompanies her for the sole purpose of making sure she pays for everything, and if she forgets, talking their way out of getting fined or arrested. They usually go get lunch after they search, piling all the props in the back of Caleb's car.
Caleb is head of set design. When the show rolls around, he's often covered head to toe in splashes of paint and saw dust. He spends all of that time locked away in the scene shop or buried in graph paper creating new set schematics. Caleb has a tendency to forget the rest of the world exists when he gets excited, so Mia has taken up the mantle of reminding him to eat, often actually covering the lunch cost when he forgets money too. Sometimes they sit in mutual silence just painting and Caleb never feels more calm.
two
flames within
"Whaddup Jay-Z, today's the day and you better get out soon because this is my room from now on."
Were the first words JJ woke up to on the last day of the, even more hectic than usual days, summer. Jay-Z was the nickname they made up for him for no reason, just sounded fun. Since JJ would be taking most of his stuff with him to his own dorm his youngest brother Cheol begged their parents for the room. At first JJ didn't really like the idea of giving his room away, but on the other side it was nice to tease him with the fact that he might hear their parents "make love" one night in the room next to him. Especially calling it make love creeped his fourteen year old brother out. "I hope mom and dad are quiet during you first night in here." JJ replied with a grin to him as he managed to throw one of his pillows at the back of his head. For some strange reason he always liked holding something in his arms, therefore the second pillow. Plus it was handy to chase people out of the room whom were disturbing his peace.
Once the tall human being finally got out of bed and realized he was on the late side, he rushed into some jeans and the first t-shirt he could find. When he came downstairs he saw that the living room was exploded into one big mess of bags, boxes and a bunch of random stuff that was there just in case. That's how it has been for the past years and will probably be even worse once his other younger brother would move out. The household Yi didn't have enough money to afford double furniture so everything had to be moved from one room to the other one. "Have you seen my black purse? The small one?" his older sister asked with a flicker of stress in her tone of voice. It was funny to see how she was the total opposite of him, she was everything but laid-back and often bad at small talk. Unless their differences the two could really well together and help each other through their struggles. "You left it under the couch the last time, to prevent that Cheol would find it." JJ replied and quickly started to eat his breakfast. During breakfast he checked his phone to see if there were any messages. He chuckled lightly as he read through the messages in the group chat. These guys never failed to make him laugh.
To group chat: idiots
JJ: you guys totally live up the name of this group chat
"Don't do anything I wouldn't do." his father yelled after they said their goodbye's and it was time for him to get off to work. Every year their mother would drive them, she was a more stable factor for his older sister and honestly it didn't really matter to JJ anyway. If it calmed his sister down for a bit than that was the best option. The last boxes were loaded into the car and they were ready to go. He was finally in his last year, and almost ready to get off this school as quickly as possible. What he wanted to do next? Too many things. The ride was full of daydreams about possible future careers or activities. But for now he should focus on passing this year, which wasn't going to be that big of a problem.
It took some time, but they arrived to their final destination. "I'm going to miss you, don't pull too much shit." his mother said as she hugged her son tightly. ]"I won't I won't."JJ kissed her on her cheek and slowly let go of her. She knew he would pass this year and hoped he would be motivated after that. Even though it was just a small chance, she still hoped that he would do his best a little more so his true intelligence would show. "You know where to find me, it'll be okay." JJ said as he grabbed his sister's arm before she could walk away. A thankful smile was her return and way of saying that she appreciated it. Their ways separated for now but would come back together eventually.
JJ already noticed the group of idiots standing outside of their apartment. But this time there was someone else he hasn't seen before. He shrugged at the thought of it and walked over, probably looking like a mess already with all the boxes and bags. The first thing he did was walk past them to quickly drop all his stuff since he was barely holding it anymore. "I don't know Jae, but it seems like I rather needed escorts."JJ said with a grin as he looked over to his luggage. He walked back over to the group and greeted everyone. From up close it didn't take JJ long to link the other guy to Jae Po. "Hey, I'm JJ nice to meet you." He said with a smile. Hoping he wasn't too freaked out yet.
Were the first words JJ woke up to on the last day of the, even more hectic than usual days, summer. Jay-Z was the nickname they made up for him for no reason, just sounded fun. Since JJ would be taking most of his stuff with him to his own dorm his youngest brother Cheol begged their parents for the room. At first JJ didn't really like the idea of giving his room away, but on the other side it was nice to tease him with the fact that he might hear their parents "make love" one night in the room next to him. Especially calling it make love creeped his fourteen year old brother out. "I hope mom and dad are quiet during you first night in here." JJ replied with a grin to him as he managed to throw one of his pillows at the back of his head. For some strange reason he always liked holding something in his arms, therefore the second pillow. Plus it was handy to chase people out of the room whom were disturbing his peace.
Once the tall human being finally got out of bed and realized he was on the late side, he rushed into some jeans and the first t-shirt he could find. When he came downstairs he saw that the living room was exploded into one big mess of bags, boxes and a bunch of random stuff that was there just in case. That's how it has been for the past years and will probably be even worse once his other younger brother would move out. The household Yi didn't have enough money to afford double furniture so everything had to be moved from one room to the other one. "Have you seen my black purse? The small one?" his older sister asked with a flicker of stress in her tone of voice. It was funny to see how she was the total opposite of him, she was everything but laid-back and often bad at small talk. Unless their differences the two could really well together and help each other through their struggles. "You left it under the couch the last time, to prevent that Cheol would find it." JJ replied and quickly started to eat his breakfast. During breakfast he checked his phone to see if there were any messages. He chuckled lightly as he read through the messages in the group chat. These guys never failed to make him laugh.
To group chat: idiots
JJ: you guys totally live up the name of this group chat
"Don't do anything I wouldn't do." his father yelled after they said their goodbye's and it was time for him to get off to work. Every year their mother would drive them, she was a more stable factor for his older sister and honestly it didn't really matter to JJ anyway. If it calmed his sister down for a bit than that was the best option. The last boxes were loaded into the car and they were ready to go. He was finally in his last year, and almost ready to get off this school as quickly as possible. What he wanted to do next? Too many things. The ride was full of daydreams about possible future careers or activities. But for now he should focus on passing this year, which wasn't going to be that big of a problem.
It took some time, but they arrived to their final destination. "I'm going to miss you, don't pull too much shit." his mother said as she hugged her son tightly. ]"I won't I won't."JJ kissed her on her cheek and slowly let go of her. She knew he would pass this year and hoped he would be motivated after that. Even though it was just a small chance, she still hoped that he would do his best a little more so his true intelligence would show. "You know where to find me, it'll be okay." JJ said as he grabbed his sister's arm before she could walk away. A thankful smile was her return and way of saying that she appreciated it. Their ways separated for now but would come back together eventually.
JJ already noticed the group of idiots standing outside of their apartment. But this time there was someone else he hasn't seen before. He shrugged at the thought of it and walked over, probably looking like a mess already with all the boxes and bags. The first thing he did was walk past them to quickly drop all his stuff since he was barely holding it anymore. "I don't know Jae, but it seems like I rather needed escorts."JJ said with a grin as he looked over to his luggage. He walked back over to the group and greeted everyone. From up close it didn't take JJ long to link the other guy to Jae Po. "Hey, I'm JJ nice to meet you." He said with a smile. Hoping he wasn't too freaked out yet.
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Jinx of Chaos
Junior Member
T Sans Narrow;
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[div class=background][div class=scrollbox][div class=imagebox][/div][div class=titleblock]basics.[/div][div class=textbox]
Name: Alice Hawkins
Nickname: Doesn't have one.
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Bisexual
West or East: East
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[div class=titleblock]appearance.[/div][div class=textbox]
Face Claim: Sophie Turner
Eye Color: Blue
Hair Color: Red
Height/Weight: 160cm / 50kg
Body Type: Slender
Tattoos/Piercings/Etc.
[/div]
[div class=titleblock]personality.[/div][div class=textbox]
Alice is confident, and doesn't let what anyone says dictate how she lives her life, and others opinions about her or her choices tend to not affect the girl. Affection is something those closer to her have to get used to - the girl loves to hug, hold hands, cuddle, give gifts, give compliments and such to those who she consideres friends. Being somewhat of a brat, she often talks back to someone in a playful tone.
Another word to describe Alice could be thrill-seeker. She drives fast and does other possibly reckless actions in the search of some adrenaline. This makes it easy to persuade her to do things that can lead to trouble. Her thirst for adrenaline paired with her thoughtlessness are the ingredients to disaster given the right circumstances - she acts first, thinks later and quickly finds herself in situations that are outright dangerous or wrong.
Committing to a relationship is not easy for her, as she quickly feels trapped. She has trouble staying faithful if she feels that her partner is suffocating her, not understanding why her partner would be so jealous over her just sitting on someone elses lap or dancing with them. To her, only sleeping with someone else is considered being unfaithful.
Alice doesn't deal well with her own jealousy, and quickly tries to cure it by flirting with someone else instead of talking it out and figuring a solution.
[/div]
[div class=titleblock]history.[/div][div class=textbox]
Alice grew up in a stable home. They were not too rich, but rich enough to live on the east side. Her family consisted of herself, mother Carmen, father Ron and big brother Saul. Her parents played a lot with their children, and took them often with them for walks in the park and other fun activities. Life smiled upon them.
Eventually, both Ron and Carmen had advanced in their careers enough to be filthy rich - this showed, as they liked to spoil their children and the family moved to an even bigger house. Saul got his drivers license, and his very own car. Their parents trusted him to be responsible with it - and from what they saw, he was. In truth, whenever he was driving, he was going far too fast. Alice naturally wanted to go with him sometimes, and he gave Alice the taste of adrenaline, which she quickly became almost addicted to.
One night when Alice was laying in bed, she could hear the sounds of fighting and screaming. She was too scared to go downstairs, but she knew the number to police - her parents had taught it to her and her brother from a young age in case of emergencies. The police reacted fast, and as they arrived they found Saul assaulting Ron. For years, Alice wouldn't hear from her brother again, and her parents refused to talk to her about it - although they praised her for calling the cops.
They lived as if nothing happened, as if Saul never existed. But once she turned 16, she got the answer as she met up with her brother. Apparently Saul had struggled with drug-abuse for a long time. That night he had come home, on drugs, and attacked their father. Their mother was on night-shift, and Alice was the only other person there besides Ron and Saul. After the police arrived, they took him away - where, that Alice was not told. Her brother had been in rehab, but it didn't help and so he had continued the path of drugs - eventually moving to west side as their parents refused to pay for his lifestyle. But he found another "family" - the gang he joined.
As of now, Alice still lives with her parents and secretly is in contact with her brother, who tries his best to keep her out of trouble and the gang-life.
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[div class=gifbox][/div][div class=overlaytext]Lets go on a ride[/div][div class=titleblock]others.[/div][div class=textbox]
Extra: Car,
Likes: Video games, sharks, makeup, cameras, motorcycles.
Dislikes: Ocean, slow drivers, cowards, vomiting, dry skin, rejection.
Theme Song:
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credits @RI.a
[/div]The girl had gotten distracted on her way, and was staring at a painting of their parents. She wondered if they just left their children alone to test them, or if it was something important that they both had to attend. Well, little did they know that their son was planning to get eaten by a goo in a matter of days, in hopes of bringing them back. Genevieve felt the pressure to do something about it. Snatching Robert away seemed like the easy part of the plan, but she would also have to find a way to dispose of it - or him, what would one even call the goo? - safely. Letting him out of the bottle didn't sound like a good idea, and smashing the vial was basically the same thought. What to do, what to do? As she was pondering, a maid had to remind her about the teatime she was originally going for, and informed that it was held in the garden. The little girl nodded and hurried off. Stupid painting and Robert distracted her, what if there was no tea or cookies left?
As she stepped in through the garden door, her gaze instantly went to an unfamiliar face. So, this must be Bianca Lunatonne. The little girl didn't look too impressed, but inside she was rather surprised - she was beautiful! Based on what her siblings talked about the Lunatonne's whenever they were mentioned, Genevieve had thought that every Lunatonne had at least something animalistic on their appearance. But this seemingly was not the case. Did she have some kind of talisman like they did, but instead it stopped her from turning into a hairy beast?
While looking around, Genevieve noticed that none of her siblings appeared to have invited the Lunatonne to join them as she was standing further away. And so, the little girl walked to Bianca, giving her a polite nod.
- Please, join us. You are our guest, after all. She said before making her way towards the table, seating herself on one of the vacant chairs. Her gaze went to Julius who had smashed his head on the table, and a little sigh escaped from the girl.
- Brother, please, we are accompanied by a lady. Genevieve muttered, as if her brother was bringing great shame to her by resting his head on the table. In her mind, Julius was doing that for no apparent reason, as she hadn't witnessed what happened before she joined them.
Because she was so young, the little girl had not heard as much about the Lunatonne's, and even though what she had heard was mostly bad, she was determined to see for herself - after all, Bianca didn't have the fur of a dog or horns like a cow, so maybe not everything she had heard was true. But it could also be that the Lunatonne was hiding goat legs underneath that dress. This brought the girl back to where she started - she was not sure whether Bianca was hiding something or not, and if she was, was it the goat legs or cow horns? Whatever the case, it might be a good idea to be on their guests good side. She did not want to be impaled by horns or something even worse.
Genevieve then realized her teacup was empty - a welcome distraction from her thoughts - and called for Jasmine.
- Jasmine, I would like to have green tea. The girl said, resting her hands on her lap. Her gaze went to her other siblings who were present. Alannah most likely because it was in the garden, which was like her very own kingdom which she treated as such. Of course, Damien was doing an exquisite job tending it, so the family was allowed to just enjoy the view. Cecilia no doubt because she wanted to keep an eye on their guest. And Klarion, he most likely was there so he could poke fun at his siblings - or worse, their guest. They were all very different, but currently they all had something in common - they seemed tense.
As she stepped in through the garden door, her gaze instantly went to an unfamiliar face. So, this must be Bianca Lunatonne. The little girl didn't look too impressed, but inside she was rather surprised - she was beautiful! Based on what her siblings talked about the Lunatonne's whenever they were mentioned, Genevieve had thought that every Lunatonne had at least something animalistic on their appearance. But this seemingly was not the case. Did she have some kind of talisman like they did, but instead it stopped her from turning into a hairy beast?
While looking around, Genevieve noticed that none of her siblings appeared to have invited the Lunatonne to join them as she was standing further away. And so, the little girl walked to Bianca, giving her a polite nod.
- Please, join us. You are our guest, after all. She said before making her way towards the table, seating herself on one of the vacant chairs. Her gaze went to Julius who had smashed his head on the table, and a little sigh escaped from the girl.
- Brother, please, we are accompanied by a lady. Genevieve muttered, as if her brother was bringing great shame to her by resting his head on the table. In her mind, Julius was doing that for no apparent reason, as she hadn't witnessed what happened before she joined them.
Because she was so young, the little girl had not heard as much about the Lunatonne's, and even though what she had heard was mostly bad, she was determined to see for herself - after all, Bianca didn't have the fur of a dog or horns like a cow, so maybe not everything she had heard was true. But it could also be that the Lunatonne was hiding goat legs underneath that dress. This brought the girl back to where she started - she was not sure whether Bianca was hiding something or not, and if she was, was it the goat legs or cow horns? Whatever the case, it might be a good idea to be on their guests good side. She did not want to be impaled by horns or something even worse.
Genevieve then realized her teacup was empty - a welcome distraction from her thoughts - and called for Jasmine.
- Jasmine, I would like to have green tea. The girl said, resting her hands on her lap. Her gaze went to her other siblings who were present. Alannah most likely because it was in the garden, which was like her very own kingdom which she treated as such. Of course, Damien was doing an exquisite job tending it, so the family was allowed to just enjoy the view. Cecilia no doubt because she wanted to keep an eye on their guest. And Klarion, he most likely was there so he could poke fun at his siblings - or worse, their guest. They were all very different, but currently they all had something in common - they seemed tense.
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MahoganyLeaf
Member
-"Hey. If someone tells you that you'd hurt them, you don't get to decide that you didn't."
Name: Tyrell Maccallum
Nickname: 'Ty'
Age:19
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Heterosexual
West or East:West
Face Claim:
Eye Color: Olive
Hair Color: Dark brown
Height/Weight:
Body Type: Lean, tall
Tattoos/Piercings/Etc.: Ear piercings, two on each ear, coal-black tribal tattoos covering the right side of his back, reaching over the right shoulder to his upper arm.
-"I realized- moods change. Like the cycle of seasons. A snowstorm will pass. And so spring will come."
Theme Song: x x
Extra (car, house, pets, etc.) His bike, his cat Selene
Likes:
-Cats
-Cooking
-Literature and art
Dislikes:
-When the brain is not used to its fullest capacity.
-Fakes and imbeciles
-People, who get on his nerves- need to say more?
Personality:
A man of few words, so its considered it hard to even get a peak of his mind.
Or so rumors say. Although Tyrell doesn't care for that. All he cares about is taking care of the two most important ladies in his life even in the cost of his own wellbeing.
His everyday attitude is rather somber and grave. His speech-style direct and spoken with gruff resonance.
So what makes him capture attention so much? His natural air of mystique perhaps. The fact that he deviates so much from the norm and even enjoys doing so despite the consequences and unwanted attention.
He his taste in literature is rather refined, as he enjoys books from the older times, favoring those with heavy subjects matters. He also very much appreciate dark humor, as dark as crisp black, like his coffee. But with extra sugar.
He admits writing poetry in his free time but avoids the subject when asked to present them, saying that his work might disturb its readers.
Art is his manner of expressing his state of mind, such as restrained thoughts and feelings, even desires as so.
His mother, however, remembers him in his earlier days, a happy little boy, so quiet and left for himself he was, but patient and well-behaving for his age. He may have changed drastically since then but she's immensely grateful for him to this day together with Kate. As long as none of them found out about their father's whereabouts. Or why he disappeared.
Bio: Tyrell, feeling as if alone in the world, was left to care for his sick mother and thirteen-and-a-half sister inside the harsher western area of Ships Haven. His memory of a father was quite about as fuzzy as the time his head was knocked to the ground by some pesky ruffian, nearly blinding him in during his fifteenth.
His mother had to be one of the unfortunate ones to develop cancer, having battled with it over several years now like the true warrior she is. Kind and patient, his mother's wisdom exceeds beyond her years, and while physically dependant on her kids- has taken up the sole role of nurturing her offsprings to the best of abilities. Tyrell's sister, Kate has always been one of the brighter students in the class, as well as bubbly and optimistic. The biggest surprise is that she gets tremendously along with her brother, downright looking up to him as her role model- as brusque and snarky he may be. But just as things went so well for her, Kate had begun puberty, and things somehow started getting really confusing. And troubling, not just for her but the entire small family.
With Tyrell however, well his school life's always been down in the dumps. Other than for acknowledging his natural good looks and mysterious air, no one really took the chance of knowing him past his brooding shell. And he wasn't really that bothered with that in the first place. The kids at his school were bothersome, stuck-up and plain shallow for his taste. He has deemed an outcast from start and never did any effort to break his forced role. He would've been content had everyone understood the clue of respecting his privacy and space. But oh, no they didn't. He was needlessly involved in school drama when some popular chick took the challenge to seduce him- or tried. She wasn't his type anyway, but she got the result and entertainment she wanted. Her big bouldered boyfriend found out about her self-proclaimed love affair, took Tyrell- no, dragged him onto the schoolyard and assaulted him with his "henchmen".
The big rock seemed to possess a large cucumber in place of a brain as he brushed aside his girlfriend's acts of deceit and lack of faithfulness. The cause? To step up the popularity game, create juicy gossip, and stories with twisted truths as always. All awaiting to stab Tyrell in the back as soon as he got of the hospital.
Although, the scars and bruises, as well as bandages really enhanced his intriguing bad boy vibes. The girls swooned, guys spat, Tyrell sighed. God forbid he did not want Kate to be involved in such shenanigans.
Merely, the universe gave him the middle finger.
Relationships: N/A
-"I appreciate alone times. Unlike others, I don't need the presence of others as a means for escape."
Writing sample
Name: Tyrell Maccallum
Nickname: 'Ty'
Age:19
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Heterosexual
West or East:West
Face Claim:
Eye Color: Olive
Hair Color: Dark brown
Height/Weight:
Body Type: Lean, tall
Tattoos/Piercings/Etc.: Ear piercings, two on each ear, coal-black tribal tattoos covering the right side of his back, reaching over the right shoulder to his upper arm.
-"I realized- moods change. Like the cycle of seasons. A snowstorm will pass. And so spring will come."
Theme Song: x x
Extra (car, house, pets, etc.) His bike, his cat Selene
Likes:
-Cats
-Cooking
-Literature and art
Dislikes:
-When the brain is not used to its fullest capacity.
-Fakes and imbeciles
-People, who get on his nerves- need to say more?
Personality:
A man of few words, so its considered it hard to even get a peak of his mind.
Or so rumors say. Although Tyrell doesn't care for that. All he cares about is taking care of the two most important ladies in his life even in the cost of his own wellbeing.
His everyday attitude is rather somber and grave. His speech-style direct and spoken with gruff resonance.
So what makes him capture attention so much? His natural air of mystique perhaps. The fact that he deviates so much from the norm and even enjoys doing so despite the consequences and unwanted attention.
He his taste in literature is rather refined, as he enjoys books from the older times, favoring those with heavy subjects matters. He also very much appreciate dark humor, as dark as crisp black, like his coffee. But with extra sugar.
He admits writing poetry in his free time but avoids the subject when asked to present them, saying that his work might disturb its readers.
Art is his manner of expressing his state of mind, such as restrained thoughts and feelings, even desires as so.
His mother, however, remembers him in his earlier days, a happy little boy, so quiet and left for himself he was, but patient and well-behaving for his age. He may have changed drastically since then but she's immensely grateful for him to this day together with Kate. As long as none of them found out about their father's whereabouts. Or why he disappeared.
Bio: Tyrell, feeling as if alone in the world, was left to care for his sick mother and thirteen-and-a-half sister inside the harsher western area of Ships Haven. His memory of a father was quite about as fuzzy as the time his head was knocked to the ground by some pesky ruffian, nearly blinding him in during his fifteenth.
His mother had to be one of the unfortunate ones to develop cancer, having battled with it over several years now like the true warrior she is. Kind and patient, his mother's wisdom exceeds beyond her years, and while physically dependant on her kids- has taken up the sole role of nurturing her offsprings to the best of abilities. Tyrell's sister, Kate has always been one of the brighter students in the class, as well as bubbly and optimistic. The biggest surprise is that she gets tremendously along with her brother, downright looking up to him as her role model- as brusque and snarky he may be. But just as things went so well for her, Kate had begun puberty, and things somehow started getting really confusing. And troubling, not just for her but the entire small family.
With Tyrell however, well his school life's always been down in the dumps. Other than for acknowledging his natural good looks and mysterious air, no one really took the chance of knowing him past his brooding shell. And he wasn't really that bothered with that in the first place. The kids at his school were bothersome, stuck-up and plain shallow for his taste. He has deemed an outcast from start and never did any effort to break his forced role. He would've been content had everyone understood the clue of respecting his privacy and space. But oh, no they didn't. He was needlessly involved in school drama when some popular chick took the challenge to seduce him- or tried. She wasn't his type anyway, but she got the result and entertainment she wanted. Her big bouldered boyfriend found out about her self-proclaimed love affair, took Tyrell- no, dragged him onto the schoolyard and assaulted him with his "henchmen".
The big rock seemed to possess a large cucumber in place of a brain as he brushed aside his girlfriend's acts of deceit and lack of faithfulness. The cause? To step up the popularity game, create juicy gossip, and stories with twisted truths as always. All awaiting to stab Tyrell in the back as soon as he got of the hospital.
Although, the scars and bruises, as well as bandages really enhanced his intriguing bad boy vibes. The girls swooned, guys spat, Tyrell sighed. God forbid he did not want Kate to be involved in such shenanigans.
Merely, the universe gave him the middle finger.
Relationships: N/A
-"I appreciate alone times. Unlike others, I don't need the presence of others as a means for escape."
Writing sample
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deer
ғɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴡɪɴɢs & sᴏᴀʀ
codedbycrucialstar
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Stardust Galaxy
QT π
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hwayi
raindrops and roses
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name remy minemizu
nickname dee-dee
age 17
gender male
sexuality pansexual
west or east west
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transition:0.4s; letter-spacing:4px; line-height:70%; text-align:justify; position:relative; top:140px; margin-left:45px; transform:rotate(-5deg); z-index:7; [/class] [class=quote] font-size:12px; color: var(--color-1); text-align:justify; max-width:175px; transform:rotate(-15deg); z-index:7; margin-left:27px; letter-spacing:0.5ps; transition:0.4s; position:relative; top:150px; text-transform:uppercase; font-weight:400; [/class] [class=namech] transform:scale(1.1) rotate(-15deg); transition:0.4s; [/class] [class=reveal] animation-name: {post_id}reveal; animation-duration:0.4s; animation-fill-mode:forwards; [/class] [class=hide] animation-name: {post_id}hide; animation-duration:0.4s; animation-fill-mode:forwards; [/class] [animation=reveal] [keyframe=0] transform: scale(1) translateX(0px); [/keyframe] [keyframe=100] transform: scale(1.05) translateX(15px); [/keyframe] [/animation] [animation=hide] [keyframe=0] transform: scale(1.05) translateX(15px); [/keyframe] [keyframe=100] transform: scale(1) translateX(0px); [/keyframe] [/animation] [class=buttoncon] height:120px; width:40px; position:absolute; top:30px; left:15px; line-height:100%; text-align:center; opacity:0; transform:scale(0.2); [/class] [class=button1] height:23px; width:23px; border-radius:10px; font-size:24px; text-align:center; padding:3px; padding-top:5px; padding-bottom:1px; color: var(--bg-color1); font-weight:bold; text-shadow:2px 2px white; background-color:transparent; transition:0.4s; [/class] [class name=button1 state=hover] background-color: var(--color-1); transform:rotate(10deg); color: var(--color-1); transition:0.4s; cursor:pointer; [/class] [script class=button1 on=click] hide tab2 hide tab3 hide tab4 show tab1 [/script] [class=button2] height:23px; width:23px; border-radius:10px; font-size:24px; text-align:center; padding:3px; padding-top:5px; padding-bottom:1px; color: var(--bg-color1); font-weight:bold; text-shadow:2px 2px white; background-color:transparent; transition:0.4s; [/class] [class name=button2 state=hover] background-color: var(--color-1); transform:rotate(10deg); color: var(--color-1); transition:0.4s; cursor:pointer; [/class] [script class=button2 on=click] hide tab1 hide tab3 hide tab4 show tab2 [/script] [class=button3] height:23px; width:23px; border-radius:10px; font-size:24px; text-align:center; padding:3px; padding-top:5px; padding-bottom:1px; color: var(--bg-color1); font-weight:bold; text-shadow:2px 2px white; background-color:transparent; transition:0.4s; [/class] [class name=button3 state=hover] background-color: var(--color-1); transform:rotate(10deg); color: var(--color-1); transition:0.4s; cursor:pointer; [/class] [script class=button3 on=click] hide tab1 hide tab2 hide tab4 show tab3 [/script] [class=button4] height:23px; width:23px; border-radius:10px; font-size:24px; text-align:center; padding:3px; padding-top:5px; padding-bottom:1px; color: var(--bg-color1); font-weight:bold; text-shadow:2px 2px white; background-color:transparent; transition:0.4s; [/class] [class name=button4 state=hover] background-color: var(--color-1); transform:rotate(10deg); color: var(--color-1); transition:0.4s; cursor:pointer; [/class] [script class=button4 on=click] hide tab1 hide tab2 hide tab3 show tab4 [/script] [class=appear] animation-name: {post_id}appear; animation-duration:0.5s; animation-fill-mode:forwards; [/class] [class=disappear] animation-name: {post_id}disappear; animation-duration:0.5s; animation-fill-mode:forwards; [/class] [animation=appear] [keyframe=0] transform:translateX(10px) scale(0.2); opacity:0; [/keyframe] [keyframe=1] transform:translateX(10px) scale(0.2); opacity:1; [/keyframe] [keyframe=100] transform:translateX(0px) scale(1); opacity:1; [/keyframe] [/animation] [animation=disappear] [keyframe=0] transform:translateX(0px) scale(1); opacity:1; [/keyframe] [keyframe=99] transform:translateX(9px) scale(0.21); opacity:0; [/keyframe] [keyframe=100] transform:translateX(10px) scale(0.2); opacity:0; [/keyframe] [/animation] [class=tabcon] height:240px; width:255px; display:inline-block; position:relative; left:5px; padding:15px; [/class] [class=border1] height:75px; width:75px; border:1px solid var(--color-1); padding:5px; position:absolute; left:135px; top:-55px; border-radius:50%; z-index:7; transition:0.4s; [/class] [class name=border1 state=hover] transform:scale(1.1); transition:0.4s; [/class] [class=border2] height:45px; width:45px; border:1px solid var(--color-1); padding:5px; position:absolute; left:208px; top:-45px; border-radius:50%; z-index:7; transition:0.4s; [/class] [class name=border2 state=hover] transform:scale(1.1); transition:0.4s; [/class] [class=scroll] height:100%; width:100%; overflow-y:auto; padding-right:50px; position:relative; [/class] [class=tab1] height:230px; width:245px; border-radius:5px; position:absolute; padding:5px; background-color: var(--bg-color2); overflow:hidden; [/class] [class=tab2] height:230px; width:245px; border-radius:5px; position:absolute; padding:5px; background-color: var(--bg-color2); overflow:hidden; [/class] [class=tab3] height:240px; width:255px; border-radius:5px; position:absolute; background-color: var(--bg-color2); [/class] [class=tab4] height:230px; width:245px; border-radius:5px; position:absolute; padding:5px; overflow:hidden; [/class] [class=rsborder] height:80px; width:80px; border-radius:50%; border:1px solid var(--color-1); padding:6px; float:left; transition:0.3s; z-index:6; position:relative; left:5px; top:5px; [/class] [class name=rsborder state=hover] transform: scale(1.05); transition:0.3s; [/class] [class=rsname] font-size:18px; color: var(--color-2); text-shadow:1.5px 1.5px white; text-transform:uppercase; font-weight:bold; position:relative; top:15px; left:12px; [/class] [class=rsstatus] font-size:12px; color: var(--color-1); font-variant:small-caps; position:relative; top:12px; left:12px; [/class] [class=rsbody] height:74px; width:176px; background-color: var(--bg-color2); color: var(--text-color); padding:3px; overflow:hidden; position:absolute; top:60px; left:59px; border-radius:3px; [/class] [class=rsscroll] height:100%; width:calc(100% - 22px); overflow-y:auto; padding-right:50px; position:relative; left:35px; font-size:8.5px; text-align:justify; [/class]
⠀♡coded by uxie♡
Don't
leave me alone❞[/div][div class=buttoncon][div class=button1]1.[/div][div class=button2]2.[/div][div class=button3]3.[/div][div class=button4]4.[/div][/div]
[/div][div class=tabcon][div class=border1][/div][div class=border2][/div][div class=tab1][div class=scroll]
basics.
name remy minemizu
nickname dee-dee
age 17
gender male
sexuality pansexual
west or east west
appearance.
height 181cm
weight 74kg
build ectomorph
hair colour naturally black, dyed brown
eye colour black
faceclaim jung jaewon
body modifications earlobe piercings, tattoos
weight 74kg
build ectomorph
hair colour naturally black, dyed brown
eye colour black
faceclaim jung jaewon
body modifications earlobe piercings, tattoos
[/div][/div][div class=tab2 style=display:none][div class=scroll]
personality
[/div]likes.
dislikes.
[/div][/div][div class=tab3 style=display:none]
history
[/div]extra.
[/div][/div][div class=tab4 style=display:none][div class=scroll]
relationships.
[div class=rsborder]
[div class=rsname]name here[/div][div class=rsstatus]status: tba[/div][div class=rsbody][div class=rsscroll]Sed est tellus, iaculis id orci id, interdum tincidunt sapien. Cras eu enim imperdiet, convallis nibh vel, lacinia ex. Proin arcu metus, pellentesque sit amet aliquam consequat, iaculis nec nisi. Ut facilisis et ante ut commodo. Sed quam massa, eleifend id mi sodales, facilisis consequat enim. Cras lacinia neque sit amet nulla laoreet luctus. Aliquam eleifend pulvinar porttitor. Suspendisse potenti. Cras sapien dolor, suscipit et magna eu, blandit euismod tortor. Nam at tincidunt est, suscipit ullamcorper mauris. Nulla gravida malesuada felis, id dapibus ex pharetra vitae. Duis cursus dolor eget elit aliquet consequat. Suspendisse auctor fringilla gravida. Donec non tellus a nibh lacinia consequat. Nulla id consequat nunc, ac viverra nulla.[/div][/div]
[/div]
[div class=rsborder]
[div class=rsname]name here[/div][div class=rsstatus]status: tba[/div][div class=rsbody][div class=rsscroll]Sed est tellus, iaculis id orci id, interdum tincidunt sapien. Cras eu enim imperdiet, convallis nibh vel, lacinia ex. Proin arcu metus, pellentesque sit amet aliquam consequat, iaculis nec nisi. Ut facilisis et ante ut commodo. Sed quam massa, eleifend id mi sodales, facilisis consequat enim. Cras lacinia neque sit amet nulla laoreet luctus. Aliquam eleifend pulvinar porttitor. Suspendisse potenti. Cras sapien dolor, suscipit et magna eu, blandit euismod tortor. Nam at tincidunt est, suscipit ullamcorper mauris. Nulla gravida malesuada felis, id dapibus ex pharetra vitae. Duis cursus dolor eget elit aliquet consequat. Suspendisse auctor fringilla gravida. Donec non tellus a nibh lacinia consequat. Nulla id consequat nunc, ac viverra nulla.[/div][/div]
[/div][/div]
[/div][/div]
[/div]
[class=container] --bg-color2:#ffaadb; --bg-color1: #ffc4e5; --color-1: #ed6f77; --color-2: #FD4E8D; --text-color: #3d2427; height:360px; width:481px; background-color: var(--bg-color1); margin:auto; position:Relative; border-radius:4px; [/class] [class=navi] height:270px; width:190px; float:left; position:relative; cursor:default; [/class] [script class=navi on=mouseenter] addClass reveal bigborder addClass namech bigname addClass namech quote addClass appear buttoncon removeClass hide bigborder removeClass disappear buttoncon [/script] [script class=navi on=mouseleave] removeClass reveal bigborder removeClass namech bigname removeClass namech quote removeClass appear buttoncon addClass disappear buttoncon addClass hide bigborder [/script] [class=bigborder] height:110px; width:110px; border:1px solid var(--color-1); padding:8px; position:absolute; left:36.5px; top:25px; border-radius:50%; transition:0.3s; z-index:6; [/class] [class=bigname] font-size:45px; color:white; text-shadow:2px 1px var(--color-2); transition:0.4s; letter-spacing:4px; line-height:70%; text-align:justify; position:relative; top:140px; margin-left:45px; transform:rotate(-5deg); z-index:7; [/class] [class=quote] font-size:12px; color: var(--color-1); text-align:justify; max-width:175px; transform:rotate(-15deg); z-index:7; margin-left:27px; letter-spacing:0.5ps; transition:0.4s; position:relative; top:150px; text-transform:uppercase; font-weight:400; [/class] [class=namech] transform:scale(1.1) rotate(-15deg); transition:0.4s; [/class] [class=reveal] animation-name: {post_id}reveal; animation-duration:0.4s; animation-fill-mode:forwards; [/class] [class=hide] animation-name: {post_id}hide; animation-duration:0.4s; animation-fill-mode:forwards; [/class] [animation=reveal] [keyframe=0] transform: scale(1) translateX(0px); [/keyframe] [keyframe=100] transform: scale(1.05) translateX(15px); [/keyframe] [/animation] [animation=hide] [keyframe=0] transform: scale(1.05) translateX(15px); [/keyframe] [keyframe=100] transform: scale(1) translateX(0px); [/keyframe] [/animation] [class=buttoncon] height:120px; width:40px; position:absolute; top:30px; left:15px; line-height:100%; text-align:center; opacity:0; transform:scale(0.2); [/class] [class=button1] height:23px; width:23px; border-radius:10px; font-size:24px; text-align:center; padding:3px; padding-top:5px; padding-bottom:1px; color: var(--bg-color1); font-weight:bold; text-shadow:2px 2px white; background-color:transparent; transition:0.4s; [/class] [class name=button1 state=hover] background-color: var(--color-1); transform:rotate(10deg); color: var(--color-1); transition:0.4s; cursor:pointer; [/class] [script class=button1 on=click] hide tab2 hide tab3 hide tab4 show tab1 [/script] [class=button2] height:23px; width:23px; border-radius:10px; font-size:24px; text-align:center; padding:3px; padding-top:5px; padding-bottom:1px; color: var(--bg-color1); font-weight:bold; text-shadow:2px 2px white; background-color:transparent; transition:0.4s; [/class] [class name=button2 state=hover] background-color: var(--color-1); transform:rotate(10deg); color: var(--color-1); transition:0.4s; cursor:pointer; [/class] [script class=button2 on=click] hide tab1 hide tab3 hide tab4 show tab2 [/script] [class=button3] height:23px; width:23px; border-radius:10px; font-size:24px; text-align:center; padding:3px; padding-top:5px; padding-bottom:1px; color: var(--bg-color1); font-weight:bold; text-shadow:2px 2px white; background-color:transparent; transition:0.4s; [/class] [class name=button3 state=hover] background-color: var(--color-1); transform:rotate(10deg); color: var(--color-1); transition:0.4s; cursor:pointer; [/class] [script class=button3 on=click] hide tab1 hide tab2 hide tab4 show tab3 [/script] [class=button4] height:23px; width:23px; border-radius:10px; font-size:24px; text-align:center; padding:3px; padding-top:5px; padding-bottom:1px; color: var(--bg-color1); font-weight:bold; text-shadow:2px 2px white; background-color:transparent; transition:0.4s; [/class] [class name=button4 state=hover] background-color: var(--color-1); transform:rotate(10deg); color: var(--color-1); transition:0.4s; cursor:pointer; [/class] [script class=button4 on=click] hide tab1 hide tab2 hide tab3 show tab4 [/script] [class=appear] animation-name: {post_id}appear; animation-duration:0.5s; animation-fill-mode:forwards; [/class] [class=disappear] animation-name: {post_id}disappear; animation-duration:0.5s; animation-fill-mode:forwards; [/class] [animation=appear] [keyframe=0] transform:translateX(10px) scale(0.2); opacity:0; [/keyframe] [keyframe=1] transform:translateX(10px) scale(0.2); opacity:1; [/keyframe] [keyframe=100] transform:translateX(0px) scale(1); opacity:1; [/keyframe] [/animation] [animation=disappear] [keyframe=0] transform:translateX(0px) scale(1); opacity:1; [/keyframe] [keyframe=99] transform:translateX(9px) scale(0.21); opacity:0; [/keyframe] [keyframe=100] transform:translateX(10px) scale(0.2); opacity:0; [/keyframe] [/animation] [class=tabcon] height:240px; width:255px; display:inline-block; position:relative; left:5px; padding:15px; [/class] [class=border1] height:75px; width:75px; border:1px solid var(--color-1); padding:5px; position:absolute; left:135px; top:-55px; border-radius:50%; z-index:7; transition:0.4s; [/class] [class name=border1 state=hover] transform:scale(1.1); transition:0.4s; [/class] [class=border2] height:45px; width:45px; border:1px solid var(--color-1); padding:5px; position:absolute; left:208px; top:-45px; border-radius:50%; z-index:7; transition:0.4s; [/class] [class name=border2 state=hover] transform:scale(1.1); transition:0.4s; [/class] [class=scroll] height:100%; width:100%; overflow-y:auto; padding-right:50px; position:relative; [/class] [class=tab1] height:230px; width:245px; border-radius:5px; position:absolute; padding:5px; background-color: var(--bg-color2); overflow:hidden; [/class] [class=tab2] height:230px; width:245px; border-radius:5px; position:absolute; padding:5px; background-color: var(--bg-color2); overflow:hidden; [/class] [class=tab3] height:240px; width:255px; border-radius:5px; position:absolute; background-color: var(--bg-color2); [/class] [class=tab4] height:230px; width:245px; border-radius:5px; position:absolute; padding:5px; overflow:hidden; [/class] [class=rsborder] height:80px; width:80px; border-radius:50%; border:1px solid var(--color-1); padding:6px; float:left; transition:0.3s; z-index:6; position:relative; left:5px; top:5px; [/class] [class name=rsborder state=hover] transform: scale(1.05); transition:0.3s; [/class] [class=rsname] font-size:18px; color: var(--color-2); text-shadow:1.5px 1.5px white; text-transform:uppercase; font-weight:bold; position:relative; top:15px; left:12px; [/class] [class=rsstatus] font-size:12px; color: var(--color-1); font-variant:small-caps; position:relative; top:12px; left:12px; [/class] [class=rsbody] height:74px; width:176px; background-color: var(--bg-color2); color: var(--text-color); padding:3px; overflow:hidden; position:absolute; top:60px; left:59px; border-radius:3px; [/class] [class=rsscroll] height:100%; width:calc(100% - 22px); overflow-y:auto; padding-right:50px; position:relative; left:35px; font-size:8.5px; text-align:justify; [/class]
Ungifted ;-;
✨im on display for all you fu**ers to see✨
[class=picture]
position: relative;
display: inline-block;
[/class]
[class=text]
position: absolute;
width: 100%;
height: 100%;
top: 0;
left: 0;
opacity: 0;
background-color: rgba(0,0,0,0.2);
color: white;
z-index: 2;
[/class]
[class name=text state=hover]
opacity: 1;
[/class]
[div class=picture]
[div class=text]
"The Princess is here!"
[/div]
*Drives an 
*Owns an black horse,named Bow-Tie
codedbycrucialstar | hidden scrolls, hover over photo
Last edited:
