building castles out of snow; the quiet gurgle of a stream; pressed flowers inside an old, well-loved tome; stuffing shells, rocks, and feathers into your pockets everywhere you go; slippery moss on rocks and trees; the crash of thunder you feel all the way into your bones; being amazed by bugs of all shapes and sizes, even the scary kind with many legs and eyes; the gentle flap of a bird's wings flying overhead; the feel of sand between your toes; the scent of air right before a storm.
cold fingers running across bare skin; a wave of anger so explosive it leaves a scar upon the earth; unanswered prayers resulting in a bitter relationship with god; nostrils stinging with the scent of charred flesh; a slow decaying bouquet of roses; walking barefoot across the cold, cold earth; a smear of dark blood across pretty pink lips; the bitter taste of acid creeping up the back of your throat; scars too numerous to count; quiet, concealed panic at the sight of your own blood.
REBECKA CLAYMORE 25-years old, born jan. 5th, capricorn cis-female, she/her pronouns, pansexual
bartender, drug-dealer, social reject
a crumpled pack of cigarettes found in the bottom of your backpack when you thought you were all out; getting a max of 2-3 hours of sleep a night; running on nothing but nicotine and pure steam all throughout the day; a favorite pair of black-and-white converse held together by duct-tape; always wearing flannel no matter what the season; a secret/not-so-secret coke addiction; calluses on your fingertips from playing the guitar; the heaviness of the stares that follow you around wherever you go;
being so tired you could probably fall asleep standing up; picking a scab just to watch it bleed; the knife still buried between your shoulders from all the people who've stabbed you in the back over the years; christmas vacations spent working overtime because your boss knows you don't have any family left to return home to anyway; feet that are always sore because you're always standing on them; life on a budget; having panic attacks anytime life throws you a curveball you weren't able to prepare for first.
you think you know me // you don't know me
you'll never know me // just leave me be
emily park.
β ββββββ β
prefers βemβ, 24 y.o., aries, asian-american
5β4β, lean/fit, dark hair & eyes, medium skintone
chaotic bisexual energy, openly in love with beck
(beck's not in love with her, but the two are still intimate anyway)
the kind of friend you call at 4 oβclock in the morning
when you need help getting rid of a dead body
or someone to come bail you out of jail.
constantly on the verge of getting fired from her job,
probably only stays b/c of beck and b/c she makes good money.
most likely involved with some bad people of her own, but
keeps it entirely on the down-low. don't ask, don't tell.
fc is pia kristine cruz, but imagine em w/o any of the visible tattoos.
jay nausser.
β ββββββ β
early 30s, 6'4", actual literal tank of a human being
beck's supplier, but also sort of like a brother to her?
cunning, crafty, humorous, easygoing, big dick energy
wise mr. miyagi of the drug scene, skilled at evading the law
has ex-military background, shows little regard for authority
elizabeth holmes.
β ββββββ β
mid-40s, owns "carnival" and a number of other bars in the area
stands ~6'0" with heels, intimidatingly tall and businesslike
piercing green eyes, very dangerous & predatory woman
long light blonde hair, tan skin, slim & graceful build
(might as well call her karen 'cause this woman is a bitch)