cry baby
quality trash
You Better Run, Run
celestiel x cry baby
He wanted to escape a life of being chained up by wealth and perfection.
She lived a life of freedom and power.
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Realistic or Modern You Better Run, Run | cry baby x celestiel
- Thread starter cry baby
- Start date
You Better Run, Run
celestiel x cry baby
He wanted to escape a life of being chained up by wealth and perfection.
She lived a life of freedom and power.
cry baby
quality trash
[IMG='width:256px;']https://i.imgur.com/1tHXrL4.png[/IMG]
Camilia Sanchez
blurb gonna go here
Camilia Sanchez
blurb gonna go here
Celestiel
Angel with a shotgun
accessory
noun
ac·ces·so·ry
1: An object or device that is not essential in
1::itself but adds to the beauty, convenience,
1::or effectiveness of something.
2: A thing of secondary or lesser importance
noun
ac·ces·so·ry
1: An object or device that is not essential in
1::itself but adds to the beauty, convenience,
1::or effectiveness of something.
2: A thing of secondary or lesser importance
Paris Templar, 20 y.
x
x
cry baby
quality trash
The night air was hot thanks to the lit up barrels and bodies moving; the smell of cigarettes, booze, fire, sweat, and perfume was thick in the air, making for an unusual smelling experience. To them though, it smelled good. This was what they lived off of. The street was loud and it seemed like the whole neighborhood was vibrating as music blasted from speakers. There were cars parked everywhere, the owners playing their own stations or mixes. It sounded like a hot mess until you really got inside and parked yourself where you wanted to be. For this neighborhood though, this wasn't unexpected. Every Saturday night they got together and put aside any problems they had with each other earlier that week. For one night they would just party until the sun came up.
Camilia was sitting on the hood of an old beat up mustang, cigarette between her fingers and a bottle of Jack in her hand. She watched everyone, blowing out some smoke as she scanned the area. All these faces were familiar. Hell, all these faces belonged to her. These were her people, her friends, her family. These were the people everyone else looked down on but damn she knew what they were capable of. It was returned too - because they listened to her, followed her. Camilia had built something that didn't happen very often; she built an empire around herself. Leader of what was originally an all girls gang. Started back when she was sixteen and throwing bitches into walls. However where there was a group of all girls, men loved to flock to that shit. They played along - they listened to Camilia, they could get close to her kingdom. They were their strong, handsome protectors or some shit. As long as they didn't cross a line, Camilia didn't care what the fuck they wanted to pretend they were doing.
She leaned back some, hiking a leg up onto the hood and taking another drink from the bottle before she passed it off to someone standing nearby. Licking the remaining booze off her lips, Camilia pushed herself off the car altogether as she walked forward, a small, smug smile on her face as she weaved between people out having a good time, grinding on each other in massive groups, showing off in their little dance battles. She loved it. They all had to deal with too much shit one way or another; so she loved when they could just be free like this.
ooc|| Yayyyy shit post because I hate introsss. Forgive this hot mess please. /ugly tears
Camilia was sitting on the hood of an old beat up mustang, cigarette between her fingers and a bottle of Jack in her hand. She watched everyone, blowing out some smoke as she scanned the area. All these faces were familiar. Hell, all these faces belonged to her. These were her people, her friends, her family. These were the people everyone else looked down on but damn she knew what they were capable of. It was returned too - because they listened to her, followed her. Camilia had built something that didn't happen very often; she built an empire around herself. Leader of what was originally an all girls gang. Started back when she was sixteen and throwing bitches into walls. However where there was a group of all girls, men loved to flock to that shit. They played along - they listened to Camilia, they could get close to her kingdom. They were their strong, handsome protectors or some shit. As long as they didn't cross a line, Camilia didn't care what the fuck they wanted to pretend they were doing.
She leaned back some, hiking a leg up onto the hood and taking another drink from the bottle before she passed it off to someone standing nearby. Licking the remaining booze off her lips, Camilia pushed herself off the car altogether as she walked forward, a small, smug smile on her face as she weaved between people out having a good time, grinding on each other in massive groups, showing off in their little dance battles. She loved it. They all had to deal with too much shit one way or another; so she loved when they could just be free like this.
ooc|| Yayyyy shit post because I hate introsss. Forgive this hot mess please. /ugly tears
Celestiel
Angel with a shotgun
"Good evening, Mister and Mrs. Clarke, it's a pleasure to meet you", Paris said with a voice as soft as silk as he shook the hand of the man and kissed the back of the woman's hand.
It was late evening, and his parents had invited another wealthy couple to have dinner with them. Which meant a five-course meal plus lots of discussion about politics and how to make more money and absolutely perfectly ignoring the fact that there were many less fortunate people out there who could live a better life if people like them just would stop to hoard money like it was the most important thing in the world.
Well, to them it was.
While James the butler- what a cliche- brought the first course, Paris sat in silence while the others discussed their buisness plans.
He was wearing his best Semi-Casual Shirt and vest and of course a tie that made him feel like a dog on a leash; which he probably was, metaphorically.
"Paris", Mrs. Clarke interrupted the boy's bitter thoughts, who gave her a faint smile. "What are your plans for the future?"
'I am currently studying sales management and hope to run my own company for Clarke Enterprises one day, like my father did and his father did.'
That was the phrase he was supposed to say, but Paris had been too slow to catch up as he had been thinking about the city lights that he could see from his bedroom window. They looked beautiful, and every Saturday night, he could see the lights of a party down in one of the poorer districts. They barely had anything; but in his opinion, they had more than he did.
They had a free will, a life to live.
He was just a pretty accessory to show off for his parents.
So, being distracted by his thoughts, all that came from him was "huh what?"
He earned four disapproving glares.
"I eh- I'm studying en-gi-nee..."
Shit. That wasn't the phrase he was supposed to say.
"I mean- "
Too late.
His father's glare oozing rage told him that he'd be better off leaving.
"W-would you please excuse me? I'm not feeling well", he muttered and got up after his father gave him a sharp nod.
He'd regret that.
He'd so regret that.
While he headed upstairs, he could hear his father talk in the dining hall.
"Excuse Paris, he's our youngest and the black sheep. He still needs some discipline and manners, but we hope to shape him into a respectable man. I will talk to him, one second please."
Paris had just reached the stairhead when his father came following him.
Paris waited, knowing the consequences.
But this time, there was no slap.
Just a finger poking into his chest as his father told him "you are a disappointment, Paris. Why can't you be like your brothers?!"
That was all he said, but it was enough to make tears brim the boy's eyes as his father left him there. He never was good enough, no matter what he did, his older brothers Greyson and Eldritch were something he neither couldn't not wanted to live up to.
He quickly wiped his eyes as he sat down on his bed and stared out of the window, at the party.
Yes, his father's words had hurt him deeply, but they had also pushed the final button to make Paris go through with his plan of leaving all this behind him.
Anger and hurt equally written in his eyes, Paris changed from his fine, formal clothes into an outfit he had been hiding from his parents ever since he had bought it when he had planned to run away for the first time, and finally went through with his plan.
Luckily his window was right next to a tree, so he could just climb out and down the tree.
He took a long, deep breath.
Free.
He'd finally be free.
And then he ran, ran until he could hear the music and feel the booming basses.
The smell was... Something different, but the electricity that seemed to make the air buzz with life made his heart beat faster.
He wasn't sure what he'd do after tonight...
But tonight, he would live.
It was late evening, and his parents had invited another wealthy couple to have dinner with them. Which meant a five-course meal plus lots of discussion about politics and how to make more money and absolutely perfectly ignoring the fact that there were many less fortunate people out there who could live a better life if people like them just would stop to hoard money like it was the most important thing in the world.
Well, to them it was.
While James the butler- what a cliche- brought the first course, Paris sat in silence while the others discussed their buisness plans.
He was wearing his best Semi-Casual Shirt and vest and of course a tie that made him feel like a dog on a leash; which he probably was, metaphorically.
"Paris", Mrs. Clarke interrupted the boy's bitter thoughts, who gave her a faint smile. "What are your plans for the future?"
'I am currently studying sales management and hope to run my own company for Clarke Enterprises one day, like my father did and his father did.'
That was the phrase he was supposed to say, but Paris had been too slow to catch up as he had been thinking about the city lights that he could see from his bedroom window. They looked beautiful, and every Saturday night, he could see the lights of a party down in one of the poorer districts. They barely had anything; but in his opinion, they had more than he did.
They had a free will, a life to live.
He was just a pretty accessory to show off for his parents.
So, being distracted by his thoughts, all that came from him was "huh what?"
He earned four disapproving glares.
"I eh- I'm studying en-gi-nee..."
Shit. That wasn't the phrase he was supposed to say.
"I mean- "
Too late.
His father's glare oozing rage told him that he'd be better off leaving.
"W-would you please excuse me? I'm not feeling well", he muttered and got up after his father gave him a sharp nod.
He'd regret that.
He'd so regret that.
While he headed upstairs, he could hear his father talk in the dining hall.
"Excuse Paris, he's our youngest and the black sheep. He still needs some discipline and manners, but we hope to shape him into a respectable man. I will talk to him, one second please."
Paris had just reached the stairhead when his father came following him.
Paris waited, knowing the consequences.
But this time, there was no slap.
Just a finger poking into his chest as his father told him "you are a disappointment, Paris. Why can't you be like your brothers?!"
That was all he said, but it was enough to make tears brim the boy's eyes as his father left him there. He never was good enough, no matter what he did, his older brothers Greyson and Eldritch were something he neither couldn't not wanted to live up to.
He quickly wiped his eyes as he sat down on his bed and stared out of the window, at the party.
Yes, his father's words had hurt him deeply, but they had also pushed the final button to make Paris go through with his plan of leaving all this behind him.
Anger and hurt equally written in his eyes, Paris changed from his fine, formal clothes into an outfit he had been hiding from his parents ever since he had bought it when he had planned to run away for the first time, and finally went through with his plan.
Luckily his window was right next to a tree, so he could just climb out and down the tree.
He took a long, deep breath.
Free.
He'd finally be free.
And then he ran, ran until he could hear the music and feel the booming basses.
The smell was... Something different, but the electricity that seemed to make the air buzz with life made his heart beat faster.
He wasn't sure what he'd do after tonight...
But tonight, he would live.
Last edited:
Celestiel
Angel with a shotgun
[you still there...?]
