Resource ||zooka's code dump/freebies||

[zooka]

I'm sure this part will get prettied up eventually.

But for now, I'm just making this thread so that I can actually put some things places that aren't my private workshop. Because they're neat-o burrito, if I may say so myself.

I got interested in this because I wanted to make something pretty for my writing samples. So I guess enjoy those, too.

 

[zooka]

Spoiler: code

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[CENTER][SIZE=7][FONT=Tangerine][I]Aurelia Elizabeth Ford[/I][/FONT][/SIZE][/CENTER]
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[B][COLOR=rgb(64, 64, 64)][FONT=Lora][SIZE=2]N i c k n a m e :[/SIZE][/FONT][/COLOR][/B][COLOR=rgb(64, 64, 64)][FONT=Lora]
[SIZE=2]Lia
[B]A g e :[/B]
26
[B]G e n r e  / S e t t i n g :[/B]
Modern Fantasy
Time Travel (Age of Piracy)[/SIZE][/FONT][/COLOR][/column][column=span6][div=height: 310px; width: 550px; overflow:
hidden][div=height: 327px; width: 565px; overflow: scroll][FONT=Lora][justify][size=3]Text goes here.[/FONT][/justify][/size][/div][/div]
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Aurelia Elizabeth Ford​

N i c k n a m e :
Lia
A g e :
26
G e n r e / S e t t i n g :
Modern Fantasy
Time Travel (Age of Piracy)

Alone at last.

Actually, Lia was often alone. This may not come as a shock, but someone with a double major in history and historic preservation, a minor in linguistics, and a master's degree in archaeology spends much of their time alone. Aurelia Ford straightened her shoulders with a short sigh, stepping into the preservation room in the basement of the museum that employed her. She flipped on the lights, illuminating the sterile, laboratory-like chamber where she did much of her work on the various artifacts she found. Sometimes, these pieces to the exciting puzzle that is history came from across the ocean, in Spain or Great Britain. Sometimes, they were found below the ocean itself. Lia herself had explored many shipwrecks; the broken and battered evidence of the Golden Age of Piracy that littered the sandy ocean floor.

This time around, Lia had no such exotic adventure. The artifacts had been found in her city, in a theme restaurant built on a historic site. The rich and rebellious maritime history of pirates that Lia had studied her whole life was portrayed rather garishly in a tourist trap restaurant, manned by busty women in costumes. While Lia tended to get annoyed by the Hollywood portrayal of "the pirate's life", she had to give them this one; the historic site was an old brothel, according to her research. The building itself had been preserved pretty well throughout the years, but there had never been much of a reason to do any excavating or digging in the area.

Apparently, the building itself disagreed. Dig here, it said when one of the floors fell in. After digging up old blueprints from the record, Lia concluded that the new sinkhole was directly over the old bathroom. There had probably been some gas bubble building up under there for years, and it had finally collapsed. And while they found plenty of interesting artifacts using ground-penetrating radar, their fancy technology couldn't actually dig it up, just flash a general picture of it on the screen. No, it was up to Lia and her team to actually dig through ancient, human excrement for a few necklaces, gold pieces, and an old rum bottle.

Even excavating a 17th-century latrine, Lia was satisfied with her life. She had never wanted to be anything else except an archaeologist, like her mother. Angela Ford was born in America but traveled to England to study history and archaeology, just like her daughter did years later (though her mother's career wasn't exactly prosperous enough to send her to England for an education, and Lia had found a state-side education). After years of study, her research on a specific pirate brought her to Spain. As the story goes, Angela fell in love with another British researcher while in Spain, but the flame died out before it could flourish into any sort of relationship. Angela had never even told him that she was pregnant. Her research (and pregnancy) brought her back to the US, where she settled in St. Augustine, the oldest city in America. This place had played a large role in maritime history, as many ships, pirate and civilian alike, had traveled to this spot.

Lia followed in her mother's footsteps, landing a prestigious position at the St. Augustine Pirate History Museum as their leading expert in all things William Paine. More recently, her attention had been diverted to the final treasure he had been allegedly seeking before he disappeared. Legends say he found it on some island, abandoned everything he knew, and simply lived out his days in rich solidarity. Lia didn't believe that for one second, not after all she had read about his raucous life.

Lia doubted that artifacts found in the porta potty of a brothel would add to her own research, the restaurant owner was paying her a lot of money for her to clean and appraise these artifacts so they could be displayed in the restaurant. And money did add to her research, so here she was, 10:00 p.m. on a Thursday, late fall, delicately cleaning some old gold and jewelry that would live out its life in a glass case. The most interesting thing had turned out to be the bottle. The cloudy, emerald glass had been deliberately sealed with wax, which she found curious. The liquid inside the bottle was not smooth or runny like one would expect in a small rum bottle such as this one; it was strangely viscous.

After a shower, Lia had returned to the museum to work. She often worked late into the night. It was almost ridiculous for her to pay so much for rent seeing as she spent so little time at home, but then again, where else would she shower after a day of digging around in the dirt? When she wasn't working, Lia enjoyed diving and rock climbing... though sometimes her job had her doing those as well, so it was really just practicing for her job. Still, it kept her fit, and she'd grown up from the string-bean of a nerdy, little girl into a slightly less stringy, still lean, rather toned, nerdy woman. She'd at least traded out her glasses for contacts. Her hair was a mess of long, golden blonde curls that she wore proudly, like her mothers. Her eyes reflected the subdued emerald color of the old bottle she researched now. White teeth nibbled a full, pink, lower lip in concentration as she tried to detach the wax seal from the bottle without melting or having any pieces fall into the liquid inside. If she melted it, or some crumbled away, the wax residue could interfere with tests to determine what the substance inside was.

Music filled the space where Lia worked. She had also adopted her mother's taste in music, which had been developed as a young, twenty-something living in England. As Lia worked the wax from the bottle with delicate tools and careful precision, the music began to skip, crackle, and fade, and the question of "Should I Stay or Should I Go?" was never answered. Lia didn't notice the music die, too engrossed in her work, too close to finally opening the bottle.

Finally, after minutes, or perhaps hours, of careful work, Lia slid the wax free, clean and intact.

 

[zooka]

Spoiler: code

[centerblock=50][row][column=span4][div=background-image: url(https://www.rpnation.com/media/scarlett-simoneit.28259/full); background-position: center; background-size: cover; height: 150px; width: 150px; margin: auto][/div][border=0px solid white][accordion=100%]{slide=center | [FONT=Roboto Condensed][bg=white][CENTER][COLOR=#696969][B][SIZE=5]Lennon Aubert[/SIZE]
[SIZE=1]▼[/SIZE][/B][/COLOR][/CENTER][/bg][/font]}
[BORDER=0px solid white][CENTER][COLOR=#696969][FONT=Roboto Condensed][SIZE=3]Age: [I]21[/I]

Genre/Setting: 

[I]Modern Supernatural[/I]
[I]Vampire Slayer[/I][/SIZE][/FONT][/COLOR][FONT=Roboto Condensed][SIZE=3][/size][/FONT][SIZE=3][COLOR=#696969][/COLOR][/SIZE][/CENTER][SIZE=3][/SIZE][/border]{/slide}[/accordion][/border]
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Lennon Aubert
▼​

Age: 21

Genre/Setting:

Modern Supernatural
Vampire Slayer​

Some people might consider it strange - possibly, probably, even insensitive - that Lennon had a favorite headstone. But this one really was special. Situated at the east end of the cemetery, it turned its face from the sun long before it became a trend in the town. Perhaps forgoing the traditional burying of the dead to face the rising sun had put a curse on the town, but it served Lennon well. That way, she didn't have to read the name or the dates on the grave marker, she could just rest her back against the cool stone and wait until the sun showed up like a particularly punctual employee at shift turnover.

It did a hell of a better job than she ever could and to this town, it was the unspoken symbol of safety. For being on such friendly terms with it, Lennon rarely got to enjoy the sun. It signaled a short trek to the station to report on any activity during the night and another short walk back to her apartment, both legs of the voyage made all the more enjoyable by chain smoking.

Really, that's the only time of day that she did it; literally using the dying light of one cigarette to light the next. Lennon didn't smoke on patrol and spent most of the rest of her time asleep, connecting with the cops on particularly troublesome cases, or training with the Foster.

Patrol was dangerous enough without the mind-numbing, sense-dulling bliss of a cigarette to distract her. Lennon had to switch up her route nightly and avoid any routine. As small as the town was, it had three cemeteries - and if all the bodies the town created actually stayed dead, it'd need even more. Lennon literally drew the name of which one she was going to hang around that night out of a hat on her way out the door. Sometimes she lurked around local bars, which were hotspots for feedings, but that held plenty of risks as well. She knew from experience that getting cornered in an alley by any more than two undead quickly became a fight for survival. Even one vampire was far from a walk in the park.

That's right. Lennon hunted vampires. And in her town, she had plenty of prey.

Thing is, no one really talked about it. The missing people. The dead bodies. Usually, people left as soon as they turned eighteen, but Lennon was 21 years old and she wasn't leaving anytime soon. She had moderate power with great responsibility. And, to adjust another cliche, she'd had said responsibility thrust upon her.

See, at age five, Lennon hid under the kitchen sink and when she came back out, the entire world was different.

Her mother burst into her room in the middle of the night and asked if she wanted to play hide-and-seek. Lennon was already awake because she was just as restless a child as she was an adult. She'd heard the doorbell ring and her father invite someone in - she thought maybe it was an uncle or something, but it was difficult to recognize the voice from all the way down the hall and through the door, despite the small size of the house. Thinking back, Lennon knew it must have been a newly-turned (ex)family member or her father wouldn't have invited them in at such a late hour.

"Not in your room though," her mother had said. Of course not. That was silly. The hiding spots in there were so obvious. Mother ushered her down the hallway and into the kitchen. She heard crashes in the living room. Her mother tucked her away behind the pipes, shoving aside household cleaners, and shut her away. The noise in the living room had stopped. Her mother was too scared to say goodbye, to give away Lennon's hiding spot. She shut the doors and ran back down the hallway, drawing all attention away from her temporary sanctuary.

Lennon's name came up once. Her mother lied, said she was at a sleepover. How strange for a Thursday night, but the intruder bought it. More crashes from the parents' bedroom, followed by an even heavier silence. The next thing she heard was footsteps, back out to the front door, followed by a grunt of surprise. She learned later that it was Devin, the aforementioned "Foster", efficiently ending the vampire's existence with a well-aimed bolt from a crossbow.

Why couldn't he have done it just a few minutes sooner? Perhaps that question weighed too heavily on all of them and explained why he didn't question that she'd never come to call him her "father", despite the fact that he became exactly that. The second he surveyed the scene, deduced that there had in fact been a child there that night, and eventually found her hiding under the sink. The second he reached his well-worn hand into the darkness of the cupboard. She didn't even question it, she just gripped it tightly and pulled herself out. And as soon as she stepped out, stood up, she knew. Her world had changed.

Devin Haroldson later told her that he saw something in her at that moment. Even young, he knew that she could take what the world was trying to dish her. It didn't mean she didn't cry, it didn't mean she didn't throw tantrums, and it didn't mean that she didn't rebel. But he knew that a darkness had burrowed into her as much as it hid her that night, and he could turn it into something productive.

Lennon wasn't the first kid he'd done this with and she wasn't the last. Most of them ended up dead or undead eventually. When she was fourteen, he took in another boy around the same age, Benjamin Casper. Lennon and Ben had been close, really close. When they turned 18, they struck out on their own, living together, patrolling together, slaying together.

Lennon was alone now, had been for a couple of years. Meaning their little adventure didn't have the happy ending they'd been hoping for.

But Lennon did fine on her own. She kept to her patrols, did some "private consultant" work for the local police department, and if that didn't put food on the table, she could always count on Devin. But she'd get something today after bullshitting a report for them regarding the vampire that she'd killed. Another missing person's case closed. A future missing person's case avoided, probably.

That morning, when she stepped into the station, Officer Jacob Diaz greeted her like he did every morning.

"What was it this time?" he asked. He was in his 30s, all business and tried to remain thoroughly unimpressed at all times, even as his eyes fell on the vertical split in her lower lip. The answer was obvious. She'd fought a vampire, that tended to get her a little punched in the face sometimes. But he always asked, simply because she had an amusing habit of making up a new story every time.

"The danger of texting and walking," Lennon told him with a shrug. She held one of her arms vertical and straight and she brought the heel of her other hand to collide with it. "Bam. Straight into a pole."

Jacob actually sniffed out a laugh at that one. "I almost believe you," he said. And though she didn't explain it, she slapped a wallet down on his desk. She didn't need to explain it. It held a driver's license belonging to the vampire she'd dusted - or, more accurately, the human that existed before they became a vampire. He nodded. He'd look into it. He always did.

And as per usual, she excused herself to the break room while he did his work. She drank some coffee, ate a donut, and read the paper until he came back in with a check, meaning that she had, in fact, found the body of a missing person's case - again, more accurately, she'd found their reanimated corpse and deanimated it.

Drinking coffee was stupid since she was going straight back to her apartment to get some shut eye, but she always did it. It was just a habit at this point. Like smoking. Which she also did on the walk to the ATM to deposit the check and also on the way home.

Finally, her feet found the sidewalk in front of her apartment. The sun was shining full force now, but all she could think about was a good day's sleep in her cozy loft where she lived rent-free, thanks to the fact that she'd saved the landlord's daughter from joining either the dead or the undead.

But something actually piqued her interest. A new guy. Looks like he'd just left her apartment building. Lennon raised a brow, rather openly appraising him as she neared. In a simpler world, she might have been checking him out, but that wasn't Lennon's world. She was trying to guess how long he'd last in a fucked up town like this.

 

[CastoffCaptain]

Hey, Z, where'd you get the nifty ship pic?

 

[zooka]

Hey, Z, where'd you get the nifty ship pic?

Internet.

 

[CastoffCaptain]

Internet.

Know what I like about you?
Sometimes you're a butt.

 

[zooka]

Know what I like about you?
Sometimes you're a butt.

I like everything about you.

I'm only a butt to people if I like them.

 

[CastoffCaptain]

I like everything about you.

I'm only a butt to people if I like them.

I also like your butt.

 

[zooka]

I also like your butt.

YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT MY BUTT.

But you're correct, it's fantastic.

 

[CastoffCaptain]

YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT MY BUTT.

But you're correct, it's fantastic.

That's the word on the streets.

 

[zooka]

NAME
MATTIE

SUBJECT: MOLLY MATRYOSHKA DOUGLASS

ALIAS:
MIMIC

AGE:
26

HEIGHT:
5'7"

WEIGHT:
131

ENHANCEMENTS:
ADOPTIVE MUSCLE MEMORY
AKA MUSCLE MIMICRY
ENHANCED REFLEXES

The "next one" was just a girl. Dark hair, average height. She wore orange prison scrubs and nothing about the way the clothes hung around her inspired any fear whatsoever. Yet her hands were cuffed behind her back and there was a guard on either shoulder, gun trained on her. She looked bored, though perhaps a bit proud that they still felt the need to put armed guards on her, even after all of this time. Honestly, there wasn't much she could do at the moment. She'd spent eight months behind bars and they'd restricted all access to television - that she had no access to the internet went without saying.

Still, she'd gotten creative. It was surprisingly easy to start fights between other women in prison. None of them were exactly blowing her out of the water with their moves, but at least it was something to see to keep a few things refreshed. And towards the end, when she'd been there awhile, made some friends, she'd acquired a phone with some videos downloaded to it. It had been a risky move to do so, but she'd had the feeling that she'd need it; she'd undergone some strange tests and could tell by the results and the reactions of those testing her that things might change soon. She'd wanted to be prepared.

And she'd been right.

Molly Matryoshka Douglass or, as most called her, Mattie spent much of her time growing up sneaking into movie theaters to see the latest action film or lifting Kung-Fu movies out of the local supercenter. Her mother held down two jobs and her father was on his second family at that point, so she was on her own to get to and from school. It wasn't something that she was particularly motivated to do and gave up almost entirely after a life-changing experience at the age of eleven. Cornered by a gang of teenage boys, Mattie realized that she could perform everything that she'd seen in those macho movies - well, everything that didn't require a wire. They hadn't been able to touch her, and she'd beaten them bloody.

After that, she tried to absorb everything that she could until the government did what it does best. Some CPS workers threatened to start bouncing her around families either looking for a check or Christian enough to get on Mattie's nerves. Her mother rearranged her jobs so that she could make sure Mattie got to school on time, but just because she was there didn't mean she was suddenly going to turn a new leaf and start burying her face in a book.

At least sports kept her relatively amused and motivated for the time being. Apparently, they didn't let kids play if they had bad grades. So she realized her second talent for exploiting people for favors and managed to keep her grades up that way. As she excelled in various sports such as soccer, volleyball, even cheerleading, the government pissed her off for the second time - though certainly not the last. Some secret agency had caught on to the fact that her athletic abilities were unnatural and they told her that she would need to dial it back and that they'd be keeping their eye on her.

Getting bored once again, Mattie became a typical 16-year-old dropout, falling in with the "wrong" crowd. Whatever. Any crowd that paid as well as they were willing to pay her seemed alright. She started making money from burglaries, beat-downs, and bodyguard jobs before she got into the big leagues of the seedy underbelly. Word got out that Mattie was for hire and as she displayed her unique ability to copy and utilize complicated martial arts, gymnastics, parkour moves and the like to fit any task, she earned the nickname Mimic.

Mattie lived that way for years, managing to make decent money and have a great time until a job gone wrong landed her in prison.

No.

Not a job gone wrong.

A mercenary gone chicken shit on the job. Well, either that, or he'd deliberately betrayed her. Either way, when she saw his face again, Mattie's expression shifted quickly from boredom to anger, peppered with determination, and she rather suddenly jumped, pulling her handcuffs under her hips and feet as she did so. She landed on one foot while the other lashed out. Her leg wrapped in front of the thighs of the guard to her left and she swept the other behind at his calves, shifting to brace with her hands on the ground as she took his legs out from under him. It was a Judo move banned in most competitions due to the dangerous nature of the landing, which the guard demonstrated as his head cracked against the ground.

And though she dodged the butt of the first rifle, there wasn't much she could do as other guards came forward and pinned her to the ground. She wasn't sure why she'd even tried, besides the fact that she was pissed off and not exactly thinking ahead.

"I'm gonna fuckin' kill you, you mother- OW! Fuck." Her threat died on her lips as her face was shoved into the pavement, the back of her neck being exposed. The woman she'd barely noticed walked forward, stating her statistics in the same manner as she had Jett's and then Mattie received her chip and the complimentary shock down the spine. Mattie was a bit more vocal about that as well.

She wanted to know exactly why she was here, what they wanted, and why they'd just shot a piece of metal into her neck, though she didn't have the most eloquent phrasing of her inquiries at the moment. She was pissed and now she was in pain and this was the first time she'd seen Jett since he'd screwed her over.

"What the fuck?!" Mattie demanded.

 

[zooka]

Name: Andrea "Drew" O'Connell
Age: 25
Gender: Female
Height: 5'4"
Weight: 117

Spoiler: Biography

In her family, Drew has always been the "eccentric" one. In fact, she could be considered that in just about any social group she manages to wiggle her way into with her vivid and assumedly exaggerated stories. She prefers to face most situations with a healthy dose of humor, no matter how dark it may be.

And she finds herself in plenty of dark situations. Especially after, to her parents' horror and her brother's exasperation, she hopped to the next town over to be a paranormal investigator. She's always been pretty open about the fact that she talks to ghosts, and most people assume she's just a little crazy for it, but ultimately find it endearing.

Even she knows that most of the jobs she finds herself on are pretty much bullshit, but she likes her life. She works part-time at a bookstore and the flexible hours allow her to road trip to the occasional P.I. gig with her little band of misfits. She currently lives with her boyfriend, an I.T. guy, one of said misfits with an interest in paranormal technology. Between the two of them, they manage just fine. Life isn't glamorous by any means, but she doesn't need that.

Now, however, she's taking a little break from him and from her odd gig to head home. Strange things are happening in her hometown and she can't resist the chance to crash on her little brother's couch and do a bit of investigating.