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lješnjak

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PostSubject: Re: Characters   Thu Jul 03, 2014 5:56 pm




{{ x x x x  }}

ƃɐɹp ƃuıʞɔnɟ ɐ s,ʇI
pǝʞɔɐɾıɥ uǝǝq ǝʌ,I 'qɯnu ƃuıoƃ ɯ,I

ʞɔɐq ʇı ʇuɐʍ ʇ,uop I puɐ loɹʇuoɔ ʇsol ǝʌ,I
sǝʎǝ ʎɯ ǝsɹnɔ puɐ sƃunl ʎɯ uɹnq
ǝıp oʇ ǝdoɥ puɐ ʇɹɐǝɥ ʎɯ ssoɹϽ



Nᴀᴍᴇ
Eugene Hayes. It's been my name since birth. Never changed, never will. I'm quite neutral about it. I'm neutral about quite a few things. My name doesn't matter much to me. Nor does it matter to the People, to them I am just a number. My mum and dad chose my name, just like any other kids'. I wasn't any different from kids. I was normal until I met Her.
Eugene | you-jean | Well-born | Greek
Hayes | hay-z | Descendant of Aodh | Irish


Aɢᴇ
I am, as of last month, 24. My birthday is the 3rd June, not that I celebrate it. No one celebrates my birthday, not that I care. I am neutral about everything. I already told you that. Though 24, I was just finishing a law degree at university, I had taken quite a few gaps years. The long 16 years of school took it's toll.

Gᴇɴᴅᴇʀ
I don't like how much these questions are sounding like the ones the People asked me. I am male, always have been.

Sᴇxᴜᴀʟɪᴛʏ
I believe I have been straight all my life. But after meeting Her, my sexuality didn't matter, no one else was as perfect as her. I was attracted to no one but Her. I never want to fall in love again, I never want to feel any sort of emotion towards anyone.



Pʟᴀᴄᴇ ᴏғ Bɪʀᴛʜ
Does that matter any more? I'll never return there. I am trapped here, there is no way out. But if you really care that much, I was born Limerick, Ireland. So that makes me Irish. I miss Ireland so much, this country is horrible compared to it. But I came here for Her, but she left me. She hates me. Ireland would be my escape, but she made it impossible for me to leave. This is all her fault. I lived with both my parents, I lived a normal childhood, and I was well on my way to becoming a lawyer.

Cᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛ Rᴇsɪᴅᴇɴᴄᴇ
That makes it sound like I don't live in a home. Actually, I don't. I hate this place.  But the People make me stay and it is the worst place in the world. The smell of bleach is always lingering in the air, the place has a varnished appearance the walls are whiter than paper. I hate white. I am always trapped in this single room. A cell, not a room. It's boring there is nothing to do. All I can do is sit and think about Her, which isn't helping me, I want to get rid of Her, she is what caused all this. She is the one who trapped me here. She is more addictive than nicotine, and I want Her out of my system. The withdrawals she gives me makes life not worth living. This place I have to stay does give me food, shelter but also pills. Lots of pills. I hate them almost as much as I hate Her. The pills stop me from feeling anything, stop me from feeling the hatred towards Her.x




Wʜᴏ ɪs Hᴇʀ?
She is a girl he met on his trip to America. Long waved brown hair that cascaded down her back, green eyes that seemed to sparkle whenever she smiled. To Eugene, she was the most beautiful person to ever walk this earth. He worshipped her. The problem is, she had no idea who he was. They bumped into each other when they passed on the streets. And she apologised. Eugene took this as a declaration of her love. He made delusions, that she loved him, and he began to stalk her. He believed she saw everything he saw, he believed she loved him, he believed she was the one for him. When in fact she was a 15 year old girl called Kylie. Eugene had figured out where she lived, where she went to school and a lot of other things about her life. He left flowers and gifts to her with notes like 'I am forever yours'. Kylie's boyfriend found these notes, and after a few arguments he told her to get the police involved, so she did. But that wasn't after Eugene had managed to send her a real life heart. The heart of a girl Kylie had once quarrelled. This was enough for Eugene to be charged as mental. He was sent to a psychiatric hospital, where he currently remains. He is waiting until he is released, waiting until he pay Kylie back for breaking his heart and sending him to that awful place.





sǝıɹoɯǝɯ uǝʞoɹq ɟo sǝɔǝıd ɯoɹℲ
sǝıɥdosolıɥd ɹıǝɥʇ ƃuılqɯǝss∀
ɹǝqɯnls ʇuǝuɐɯɹǝd uı ʎɐʍɐ pǝʞɔo˥
sǝuo uǝllɐɟ ǝɥʇ ɹoɟ lǝdsoƃ sı sıɥ⊥

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PostSubject: Re: Characters   Sat Jul 19, 2014 12:39 pm




Subject number: 361d
Subject name: Romania Anne Löwe
Subject age: 27
Subject state: Changeable
Subject description: Brown hair, blue eyes, medium height
Subject family and contacts: Emily West and Kurt Löwe
Code name: Lion

White walls. Claustrophobic. Two girls in white.
Unknown. Blurry vision. Unnecessary. One girl
sees me wake up and adjusts my medications.
Vision less blurry. The girls leave and a doctor
removes all needles from my body. I am not
tense anymore. And I don't like this. I squirm my
way out of his grasp, but I don't get very far. The
doctor calls back the girls, as if they are any help.
I scream and I shout. My throat hurts. I need to
get out. I can't be here anymore. Every day the
same. I don't want this, I never did. No.


Psychiatrist notes: Romania seems to be heavily
bipolar lately, adding to the long list of her mental
disabilities. Some days we talk normally, about her
family and life in general, and others she doesn't
listen to me and often shouts. I believe her state is
stable, but permanent and can be regulated by
current medications. If she behaves well in the next
year I will send her in a flat near the hospital and
she might even be ready for living independently soon.


Born in Vienna, Romy was a promising child. She liked
drawing houses and acting in her school drama group.
When she was twelve, her mother and father divorced
and since her dad was unable to financially keep her up,
her mother moved away with her to Michigan. After
she finished college as an architect, she moved away
from her mother's home to a shared condo. That didn't
last too long because of her weekly psychotic outbursts
her flatmate called her mother, who tried to deal with her,
but couldn't. It only got wore. Her mothr had nothing else
to do but to call the doctors. She was diagnosed with the
schizoaffective disorer, which contins many different
symptoms of bipolarity, depression, depression, anxiety,
and pre dementia. Her mother decided it would be the best
to send her to a hospital with a specific program for mental
illnesses. She's been there for four years now.

The broken locks were a warning you got inside my head
I tried my best to be guarded, I'm an open book instead
I still see your reflection inside of my eyes
That are looking for a purpose, they're still looking for life

_________________
michigan lake blue, breast cancer awareness pink, nina's purple


did u mean "my writing at 2 am"
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PostSubject: Yves Saunders   Sun Jul 20, 2014 8:35 pm






x x x  

Every night I walked the streets
Never dreaming what could happen
Sad and so lonely
I saw in the mirror my reflection


Name
Yves Saunders

Nicknames
Sean. From when his primary school friends couldn't pronounce his first name and took the 'Saun' from Saunders. He now prefers to be called Sean as the bullies at his secondary school uses to tease him for having a name that makes him sounds like a girl. They used to pronounce Yves as 'Eve'.

Age
21

Gender
Male, definitely male

Sexuality
Straight as a ruler

Oh my heart’s been tried
Time and again


Eyes
Dark blue. He has to wear glasses but prefers contacts so no one bullies him.

Hair
Dark brown, short but not short short

Piercings and Tattoos
A tattoo of the world
x

Height
5"9' but seems smaller as he has a slouch

Weight
About average for his height

Clothes
He usually wears jeans and shirts with a leather jacket. He has a selection of superhero themed shoes that he feels obliged to wear so he can show his true nerdy self. He is often seen wearing a rimmed hat in order to shield his face. His sister bought him a guitar pick necklace for his 20th birthday and he hardly ever takes it off. x

Illnesses
Yves has a mild form of paranoid schizophrenia and is on medication with regular therapy. He was diagnosed when he was 15 after he started hearing voices. His memory isn't the best so he sometimes forgets to take his medication which leads to small hallucinations.

Allergies
He is allergic to oranges and cringes away from just the smell of them.

So say you feel the same and
We’ll never be lonely anymore


Occupation
Yves is currently unemployed but taking a teaching course in university. He hopes to someday become an English teacher at a secondary school. He is a regular act in the local pub, The Red Lion, so earns enough to live buy.

Current Residence
He is now living in a small apartment on the outskirts of London. x

Birth Place
Yves grew up in the city of Inverness in Scotland x. He spent his time playing near Loch Ness with his younger sister, Gemma. When he was 13 his parents moved to London taking him and Gemma with them. Since Secondary school had already started everyone had formed there own friend groups so Yves was stuck with the misfits.

So much learning to lose
But you’re not a day too soon


Fears
-Snakes
-Heights
-Having a schizophrenic episode in front of a crowd

Dreams
-Becoming famous
-Everyone knowing his name

Talents
Yves can play numerous instruments such as the guitar and has a good singing voice. He can also draw well but he prefers music to art.

Flaws
He prefers not to interact with other people as most used to ridicule him.

Always thought that it was me but
I see now just how wrong I was


Parents
Molly and Steve Saunders

Siblings
His 15 year old sister, Gemma

Relationships
Yves has given up on the idea of having an intimate relationship when he was 14, as a girl named Jessica dumped him. She was his first and only love so when she broke his heart he spent two weeks in his room.

Crushes
Look above ^

Pets
A black feline with white paws, Mitty

Happiness never held on to me
Until you had me see
That together we’re just better off,
We're just better off


A frame from past
"Come on, it's fine. There's nothing in the water", I said to Gemma. We were playing in the shallows of the Loch and I was trying to teach her how to swim. "I don't want to", she moaned as she wrapped her arms around herself "it's cold". "It's not that bad", I said as I splashed water at her. I swam further out and motioned for her to come with me. "Yves!", she screamed as my head went under water. She cautiously moved forward, searching. I grabbed her ankle and pulled her over. She screamed again as I started laughing. "Why would you do that?", she asked as a splash war broke out.

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PostSubject: Re: Characters   Fri Jul 25, 2014 7:29 am



{{ x x x
Aʀᴇ ᴡᴇ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ᴏʀ ᴀʀᴇ ᴡᴇ ᴅᴀɴᴄᴇʀ?
Mʏ sɪɢɴ ɪs ᴠɪᴛᴀʟ, ᴍʏ ʜᴀɴᴅs ᴀʀᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴅ
Aɴᴅ I'ᴍ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ᴋɴᴇᴇs ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɴsᴡᴇʀ
Aʀᴇ ᴡᴇ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ᴏʀ ᴀʀᴇ ᴡᴇ ᴅᴀɴᴄᴇʀ?

Name
Recruit Lloyd, 7765 of troop 180 at your service, sir! Jesus Christ, please allow me to drop these fucking formalities. Ah, thank you. The name is Stuart Lloyd, hasn't ever changed,  not even when I joined the Royal Marines. I like my name, it is a good word to say. My nickname usually is Squirt, but I much prefer to be known as Stew. People call me Squirt because I happen to be the smallest in our troop, much to my annoyance. It isn't my fault I am short, my parents were just midgets.  
Stuart | Stew-art | Steward | Scottish |
Lloyd | Ll-oyd | Grey | Welsh |


Gender
I am as feminine as a guy could get. Which is why my father advised I joined the Marines, to try and get more 'masculinity'. I have definitely seen too much masculinity for a lifetime.

Age
I am 19, yeah, I guess you could say I am young, but then again, I  joined the Marines a year ago, which took away my belief in being young.

Birthday
My birthday is the 28th October, funnily enough. Which is exactly the same day of the anniversary of the Royal Marines, I was born on the 330th anniversary.

Sexuality
No matter how feminine I seem, I am straight. In the Marines you definitely see a lot of men, literally, and I find girls a lot more charming, men have three things I don't like the look of. Two are too wrinkly.


Hair
My hair is fairly short, as it has to be cut into an 'army' cut when you first join the Royal Marines. It is a very dark brown, almost black in colour, but I like it, I believe it suits me. It is usually left as it is when I wake up, scruffy and unstyled. But it is better than those looks of 'I-totally-didn't-spend-three-hours-attempting-to-make-my-hair-look-like-I-just-got-up'.

Eyes
My eyes are a light blue, and have the unfortunately, I require glasses. This makes training very difficult, so most of the time I wear contacts or don't even bother if we are training in water or mud. It hurts like hell when you get some mud stuck between your contacts and eye. Like seriously, you don't want that.

Clothing
{{ x x }} I take proud in what I wear. Even when it isn't the Royal Marine outfit. The one thing I love about the Royal Marine's uniform is the hat. A little green beret, problem is  commando makes us wear it perfectly. If it isn't either you or the hat goes out the window. Now, at home, I wear  clothing that I can only as 'New York' styled. A large beige coat, dark colourd skinny jeans, and a pair of quite fashionable black shoes. Oh and we can't forget the man bag.

Body Shape
As mentioned before, I am short. Both of my parents were short, my mum especially. It's a bit mean isn't it? forcing me to be short because they were. Girls hate short guys. And unlike most guys in the Marines, I have no muscle,  I am small and skinny not a good combination.



Life as a Marine
I hate it. They make you into machines that what a person says. We aren't people any more, we're not allowed to be. Be human and be killed. We have to be the dances who follow a choreographed dance like every other Marine out there, except if they mess up, it is a minor injury they receive. If we screw up, we will die, or at least lose a limb. We're the Royal Navy's army, we spend a majority of our time at sea, which I guess is okay, seasickness is a bit inevitable at time. Thing is, I haven't been deployed yet. I still need to pass my training. Most army soldiers only get six months of training. The Royal Marines get nine, and it is so awful. Every second I am in pain. And, you know when you complain about your parents making you tidy your room? Well, at least they don't throw your mattress out of the window if your bed and wardrobe is not tidy enough. I think the commando has wanted to throw me out of the windows many times before, which judging by him height and the amount he eats, it won't be hard for him. I only deal with this shit for my father. He and mother were Marines, and he didn't believe I was 'man' enough for him. I just wanted to please him, but now I want to cut the cord that has tied me to this hell of a life.



Tʀᴀɴǫᴜɪʟ ᴀs ᴀ ғᴏʀᴇsᴛ
Bᴜᴛ ᴏɴ ғɪʀᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ
Oɴᴄᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ғɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴇɴᴛᴇʀ
Yᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ sᴜʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡɪɴ
Yᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴀ sᴘɪɴᴇʟᴇss, ᴘᴀʟᴇ, ᴘᴀᴛʜᴇᴛɪᴄ ʟᴏᴛ
Aɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇɴ'ᴛ ɢᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴄʟᴜᴇ
Sᴏᴍᴇʜᴏᴡ I'ʟʟ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴀ ᴍᴀɴ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜ
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PostSubject: Re: Characters   Fri Jul 25, 2014 7:42 pm




I sailed an ocean, unsettled ocean
Through restful waters and deep commotion
Often frightened, unenlightened
Sail on, sail on sailor


Introductions
Ahoy, this is your captain speaking. Anyone? No? Okay, fine, my name is Michael Green. Or Mike if you prefer. I am 23 years of age and I am most obviously male. I am a sailor on The Rising Seas. Which, I'm told, is the most feared pirate ship of the northern seas. I joined the crew when I was 16, and have been with them ever since. They are my family, through and through. I am Italian but I am also fluent in English. The crew are from a variety of countries so constantly bicker over which is better. It can get annoying but I still think Italy is best.



Getting Personal
I was born on the 31st of October, 1762, in Pachino Italy. Which is the furthest away from Rome. My father left the day I was born so my mother raised me by herself. She was a cook for a rich family and when I was old enough I went to help her. Everything was perfectly fine until she became ill. This was when I was 14. I got a full time job to pay for the taxes and her medicine. She died three days before my 16th birthday and so I fell into deep despair. I wandered around the docks, aimlessly. I took the odd jobs but none of them were right for me. A few weeks later, while searching from ship to ship for a job, I came across The Rising Seas. I instantly fell in love with the ship and it's crew. They welcomed me aboard and taught me how to live the life of a pirate.



Job Description
As a deck hand I man the sails and do the occasional jobs. I always seem to be given the jobs that require the most climbing and effort. I don't mind it all that much because the views are always beautiful.



Pirate Stuff
The Rising Seas sails across the trading oceans, which means that we can intercept cargo ships. When we sight a ship the excitement and anticipation bubbles up throughout the crew. As soon as were near enough to the cargo ship we toss grappling hooks over so that we can tie the ships together. We battle the cargo ships crew until they surrender or to the last man standing. We pillage their cargo and travel to a trading village where we sell all of the goods.



What's On The Outside
I have long black hair that almost reaches my shoulders. Most of the time I tie it back to keep it out of the way. I have green eyes that look washed out because of the sunlight. I am quite tall for my age and slightly muscular from all of the climbing. I am not overweight nor underweight. I am accustomed to wearing dark brown trousers with knee high boots over them, a baggy shirt with a black waistcoat, a brown belt and sheath for my sword



What's On The Inside
I love the thrill of the fight, I really do, But I would still like to fulfill my dream of becoming a professional violinist. I started playing when the ships cook, Joel, taught me as payment for extra jobs that I had been doing. Every time we dock at a new port I find a local pub that has live music and play for the night. Those are the times that I look forward to.


I wrest the waters, fight Neptune's Waters
Sail through the sorrows of life's marauders
Unrepenting, often empty
Sail on, sail on sailor


x x x
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PostSubject: Re: Characters   Sat Jul 26, 2014 5:50 pm





Name
Katherine Hunter

Nicknames
Kate, Kathy, Hunter

Age
22

Gender
Female

Sexuality
Straight

Relationship Status
Single as a pringle and ready to mingle

Powers
I am able to manipulate my own matter. This means that I am able to walk through walls, become invisible, change my image (e.g. shapeshifting), fly, change my strength/weight etc.

Looks
I have short blond hair that is quite curly. My eyes are dark blue. I am quite tall and slightly under weight. I am accustomed to wearing blue jeans and various shirts. However, on special occasions I wear knee length dresses and a leather/denim jacket. I have an Alice in Wonderland inspired tattoo on my legs. However, this can all change in the blink of an eye.

Personality
I am quite confident but don't show it all too often. Ever since I discovered my powers I've had less and less human contact because nobody seems to get me. I spend most of my time at home so I don't have to interact with people. I like to spend my time painting and so when I run out of canvases I start to paint the walls and ceilings.

Current Residence
I now live in a rooftop apartment in the middle of Manhattan. My parent are quite rich and so when I moved out they bought my this apartment. To be honest I'm pretty sure they only bought it for me to make me leave the house.

Hobbies
As aforementioned I like to paint. I also love cooking and so spend a lot of time in the kitchen.

Current Job
I don't really have a job. Everything I need is paid for me by my parents. I do sell some of my paintings occasionally though.

Pets
I used to have a beagle called Joey when I was younger. However, ever since I discovered my powers house hold pets seem to be scared of me. Wild animal such as birds and deer seem to like me, though they wouldn't really work as pets.

Favourite Colour
I prefer dark blue like the sky at dusk.

Favourite Type Of Music
I am a fan of classical music which most people at school told me was weird and that only older people should like it. I tended to ignore them, though.

Extra Images
x x x


Last edited by rocketship potter on Mon Jul 28, 2014 12:13 pm; edited 1 time in total
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PostSubject: Re: Characters   Sat Jul 26, 2014 6:18 pm




}} full  name }}
Scottie Nicolae Quaderi
Ah, my name. It is a peculiar one, isn't it? I guess I
should start at the beginning, if we were to explain.
Scottie. Yes, I am aware it's a male name. Try telling
that to my non-English mother. She thought, or rather
to say, confused it with the name Scout, which is
unisex. Nicolae, that's tricky. I'm not quite sure where
is that from, my mother, who picked my names, all of
them, didn't tell me why she named me that. I do believe
it was a name of some kind of a book. Quaderi, being
the last on the list, is my last name, and, as you know,
nobody who is still alive got to pick it. It's Israeli, or
so I believe.

}} nickname }}
Ankh
My nickname isn't a shorter version of my name, like
most other nicknames are. It's an Egiptian symbol
for life, or a hieroglyph, those found in Egypt. I find
it very endearing, much so that I had the symbol
itself tattooes on my stomach. Who said that nicknames
don't last forever?

}} age }}
19
I was born on the 12th of August, but I don't remember
my birth, surprise, surprise. Where I was born the
summers are horribly hot, so I'm fairly adabtable
to high temperatues.

}} residence }}
New York, picture gallery
It wasn't always the little flat in New York City. I used
to live all around the world. Born in India, moved
to Egypt when I was six and from then I've been to
Israel, Ukraine, Finland. I finished high school in
New York. All that becaue of m mother's job, which
meant it was necessary for me to go with her. My
dad, an American born and raised, accepted me in his
apartment and said that I could stay until I finish college.

}} sexuality }}
Heterosexual
I was raised in a home which didn't have many rules,
but mother, as her family was religious, she raised me
the best she knew alone, so me ending up gay would be
proof she messed something up, hehe.




}} eyes }}
Grey brown
}} hair }}
Long, black, often in braids
}} height }}
Below average
}} weight }}
Average
}} other }}
Ankh tattoo on her stomach



}} family }}
Joe Brown and Arwa Quaderi
Father, there's nothing much to tell about. Born in New
Jersey, and that's all I know about him. My mother always
mentioned his accent, and she said it was funny. She,
on the other hand, was born in India, in a big family of
five. Living surrounded by people made her wish to have
a numberable family herself, but unfortunately, she got
stuck with my father.
It was a summer thing, she says. She was on a vacation
with her sister in New York when she saw him. She always
says that part with such a dreamy and nostalgic voice...
Their story was my favourite bedtime story as I was
growing up. Mother says that their love was a candle in the
wind; burned quickly, kept them warm, but disappeared
before they could make a fire out of it. Fortunately, when
I got older, I realized how much it hurt her to tell me that
story every night. Then we continued with the more
positive ones, like Romeo and Juliet.
But enough with the sad stories. Wait, what haven't I told
you about my parents... oh, right. My mother, contrary to
the popular belief, isn't Indian. Not fully. She's half Indian,
a quarter Israeli and a quarter Egiptian, which gives me
quite an ethnic background.

}} occupation }}
Language and literature college student
Well, not yet. I got in the college this summer, but that
counts, right? I study languages because all the countries
I've lived in, they all had different languages, and that,
being a child, always interested me. All different ways
of pronouncing the same things, same words...  ah, don't
even get me started. I, so far, know Hebrew, Hindi, Finnish,
and English, of course,




Better than a thousand hollow words, is one word that brings peace.


_________________
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did u mean "my writing at 2 am"
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PostSubject: Re: Characters   Sun Jul 27, 2014 7:26 pm






Deborah Allen Taylor
What a mouthful. My mothers brilliant idea to be unique


Debbie, Debs, Al
I prefer Debbie because Al makes me sound like a boy


I am 18 years
Still not old enough to do everything. Damnit


Just under 6 feet


Average, don't you dare call me otherwise


Long and blond
I usually wear it in a ponytail to keep it out of the way


A very dark grey that sometimes looks black




A tent, somewhere in Afghanistan


As you may have guessed by my brief explanation of where I live, I am in the army
I am just a soldier, nothing special about me
I joined when I was 17 because life was getting boring
Conflict shouldn't really be exciting for me but somehow I really feel good while in the army


I don't remember my real parents
I was in a foster home at the age of 2 and was adopted a year later

x x x

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PostSubject: Re: Characters   Mon Jul 28, 2014 9:59 pm

what i got in this generator: cis female, bi, 3, single and content, tender, biting
what i got in this this generator: sympathetic, kind, courageous; selfish, ruthless,
dishonest; oppression, losing loved ones; knowledge, wealth; enjoys poetry, never been kissed; shabby
let's do this
and i'll ignore most of these so shh
/after i finished:
I LIKE HER TOO MUCH HELP




Hi! I'm Monti, nice to meet you! Oh, you're new in this school? Let me give you a sneak peek of what awaits!
No, you can call me Monti, but that's not my real name, of course it isn't. What loco of parents gives a female
child name Monti? It's just a nickname, you know. E'rybody has 'em. If you don't like Monti, you can always go
for Niqi, both from my name, Monique. I'd prefer if you wouldn't call me that. Because, you know, if you call
me that, everybody else will. Hehe, it's funny, only my mother calls me Monique. Or 'Monique Colette Julie! Get
yourself down and help me with the dishes!' and so on, so on. It's interesting how neither my parents are French,
yet, look at my names. I don't mind, but it's odd, and I get a lot of questions. Ah, but what can I do. You're
asking me for my age? Do I look any older than sixteen? Ah, I'm just kidding, I'm twenty two. I mean, if I was
sixteen, I wouldn't in college, right? What's next, you're going to ask me about my gender? I'm am most obviously
a dragon. Can't you see my wings? Roar, et cetera. This is the English classroom where I read Shakespeare
while the teacher lectures on Shakespeare. Yeah, I kind of ignore him. I know all that, I read everything I could
find about Willie Shakespeare. He's my homeboy. I like poetry, you know. Poetry is the most beautiful thing
that human beings can do with words. That and graffiti. Don't tell anybody, but I'm responsible for most of the
'artwork' in our town. I own around 30 cans of spray paint hidden in the garage, those things never wash off! If
you want, I can make you a spray paint thingy, I've gotten quite familiar with working with them this summer.
When you're bored, you do a lot of things, mostly those which are useless. I learnt how to play guitar last month,
it's surprisingly easy, but not very convenient, because I don't really like pop music. Opera is my jam. Oh, sorry,
I have to go now, newspaper crew meeting, but I'll see you around, no? Peace, my friend!




I looked around my room and shook the spray paint bottle in my hands. Let's do this. My boring
wallpaper needed to be brutally murdered, and what better way than to get out my graffiti
making kit and inhale some toxic gases. But before I could do that, I had to remove everything
from the wall I intended to paint only to end up with a mirror in my hands. A person in glasses
stared at me. I got a bit confused, but then realized that it was only me. Plain little me.
I never get noticed by anybody, and even though I have my fair group of friends, I'm the
outsider, a friend of a friend who has a group of their friends, but they're not my friends. And
for a large portion of my life, I didn't mind. I had my opera classes, I had my artsy and craftsy
grandma, I had my spray cans and I didn't mind. Now, as I'm getting older and am in second
year of college, I'm getting lonely. Even though I tell my relatives I have a lot of friends and
I tell my mum and dad I go out with then, I really just go to an old building and draw lines
around me. Not connected, never connected. The person in the mirror had blondeish brownish
hair, not a specific colour, and it was burnt off when I was nineteen by my dad's clumsily
left cigarette on my bed. Grey green eyes, as unique as they may be, but boring. No 'spark'
in them, as many writers may describe. My clothes aren't many, but are quality, so I often
end up with the same clothes the day after I wore them. My room was small, but the space
was well used. And it was too neat. I threw the mirror on the bed, but I missed, so it shattered
into a thousand little pieces, and I began to draw a mural over my bed. I still didn't finish it.




x x
I dropped my spray can bag onto the ground with a dull clank of the bottles. This building is
my sanctuary. Other people have churches and monasteries and prayers and God or Gods,
and I have art and smell of fresh paint. Depressing, if you think of it. But it's been like that
for years now. This building was abandoned on 1998, and I discovered it when I was 15,
walking with my mum. I spent days looking around, gasping at the diversity of styles, at
all layers of controverse pictures or quotes, before I cracked open my piggy bank and
bought my first set of spray paint cans. It all escalated from there. Half of the paintings
in the building are mine, but I sometimes went outside and wrote little snippets on new
buildings, to brighten up this dull town. I get the blue colour out, and the green, black
and white. And I draw the world with green, blue and white. And I draw a little black dot
in America. A little arrow comes from that little black dot. 'If in need, I am here', I wrote,
hoping that maybe people will like my graffiti. Oh, who was I kidding. Nobody even came
to this building anymore. Otherwise there would be doodles on my doodles. But I can hope,
right? Once somebody told me that only hope remains, after everything else fails. How?
How can you even say that? The first thing I lost was hope.




the way I dress
where I live x x
eyes
hair



You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself
Any direction you choose.
You’re on your own. And
you know what you know.
And YOU are the guy who’ll
decide where to go.

You’ll get mixed up,
of course, as you already know.
You’ll get mixed up with
many strange birds as you go.
So be sure when you step.
Step with care and great
tact and remember that
Life’s A Great Balancing Act.

And will you succeed?
Yes! You will, indeed!
(98 and ¾ percent guaranteed.)

KID, YOU’LL MOVE
MOUNTAINS!
-Dr. Seuss



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did u mean "my writing at 2 am"
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PostSubject: Re: Characters   Sun Aug 03, 2014 4:24 pm

I liked Aiden, so I decided to rewrite his form c:


x x x

Sᴏ I’ʟʟ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴇɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ I ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇɴᴅ
Aɴᴅ I’ᴍ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʜᴏʟᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴍɪɴᴇ.
Jᴜsᴛ ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀsᴛᴀɴᴅ, ᴡʜᴇɴ I sᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄʟᴀᴘ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴀɴᴅs
Iғ ʏᴏᴜ sᴛɪᴄᴋ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ I’ᴍ sᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ I'ʟʟ ʙᴇ ғɪɴᴇ

Basic
Hey there! My name is Adian McCormac, or Aiden to most people. I'm twenty-one, and live in tea-drinking, crumpet-eating, Queen-loving London, and I was born on the 23rd March 1993. Okay, I feel a bit like I am lying here. I am not the one talking, my computer is, well, I am telling it what to say. I have a stutter, see? But I will talk in a bit more detail about that later on. I spend a lot of time on this laptop, not just because it assists me in talking, it is just my life. I can thank that fact to Rory, because before I met her, I hardly spent any time at all on the laptop, but she got me addicted, y'know. I met her on a chat forum a little while back, and we just started chatting. I am looking forward to the day I can actually meet her personally. Anyway, as much as I love talking about Lion, apparently this form is about me, so lets continue with that topic. Things I like consists of mostly fanboy stuff; Dr Who, Sherlock, Harry Potter, Supernatural, Lord of the Rings, Pokémon and many others. I live and breathe those fandoms, literally.My room-mate (Ash) and I share a flat in the centre (ish) of London, and it is completely covered in all things fandom, well my room anyway. I don't spend all my time fanboying though, no, I do spend sometime doing other stuff, like playing my violin. That is definitely one of my favourite things to do.  When I am not at home- fanboying over stuff- I go to work at Argos, well, I work in the background of Argos. Y'know how you order your item and it magically appears a few minutes later?  Yeah, I am the guy who gets it for you. I find all the items you want, because working at the checkout would require talking which isn't something I can do easily.
Adian | Ay-Dee-An | Celtic | Little Fire
McCormac | Mac-Core-Mac | Irish | Raven's son




My Stutter
I have had my stutter for many years, so basically for as long as I can remember. I was bullied a lot about it when I was younger, and it didn't help I was a slight chubby child. The bullying Secondry School caused my Anorexia which I am slowly, and not so surely, recovering from. Apart from making me Anorexic, my stutter has caused other problems such as not being able to find a job, I was lucky at Argos because Ash knew the Employer, or more what she liked. Yeah he's kind of a slut, but I can't say anything against him, he has been my best friend for many years and has helped me a lot. My stutter only used to be every other word, but as I have got older, the stutter has developed into something a lot stronger and I now stutter at mostly every word. Which is one of the main reasons I spend a large amount of time on the internet as I am not required to speak unless Skyping with Rory, and she hasn't mentioned my stutter, so she either doesn't care or hasn't noticed it, which I am so thankful for.




Looks
I have quite long, slightly scruffy brown hair. A few years ago, my hairdresser decided to try cutting it shorter to see what would happen, see how it would look and let me tell you, it was God awful. It took a full four months to grow back to its original length. Never again. Now, I've mentioned my Anorexia, and just because I have it doesn't mean I can't see the fact I could count my ribs, it doesn't mean I can't see the spikes of my spine as I bend over. I just see something that isn't perfect, not good enough looking to be seen by the world. Which is the main reason I wear quite baggy clothing, and baggy clothing helps cover myself up. Thankfully, I haven't become Bulimic, I can still eat without throwing it back up. Problem is, I don't get chance to eat, or more I don't want to eat.  I get hungry, yes, I am only human. I just choose to ignore it. I live on coffee. Lets go onto a happier subject, yeah? My eyes are brown, and I used to have to wear glasses all the time, but now it is only when I am reading. So technically, I still wear them all the time as I need them for my laptop. I don't mind too much, just as long as I remember to take them when I am not reading, as the world becomes a bit blurred. Height-wise, I am tall, I am about 6'2", so I am taller than the average guy. But also a weigh a lot less than the average guy, but I don't really want to continue talking about that. My clothing is usually very fandom based, as you can probably see, I love my clothing sense, even if a lot of girls think I am a 'dork' or a 'geek'.




Home and Away
I have mentioned, I live with my friend, Ash. It's only a two bedroom flat, but it has everything we need. There were a couple of arguments over the rooms, but oddly enough they are exactly the same size. Only difference is how much closer to the front door one is. Which means they have to open the door to collect parcels and stuff. I lost, so my room is the one closest to the door while Ash gets a lay in longer than me except Sundays. I like Sunday, because there is no post. Oh God I feel like Uncle Vernon. My room is almost completely covered by posters, it's quite hard to see the slightly green colour my room is painted. I don't spend too much time in my room, I spend it int the living room where the internet connection is best. I live on the black sofa we have in the middle of the room. I like the sofa, it came with the place, free furniture for the win. The tv is quite large, but it is the only one we have in the flat, Ash uses it mostly for his xBox. and when it is free, I watch films on it sometimes. I think our kitchen is in good nick, but I usually don't actually notice the fact we have one. The kettle is the most used thing in the kitchen, can't beat a cup of tea or coffee. Now, location of the flat is best, it is almost in the centre of London and is close to everything of interest. I don't have a car, no point really, so I use the tube. The closest tube station is about five minute walk from here, I would be too lazy to walk any further. My job isn't far from home either, which is good, as I would be too lazy to go to work if it was too far.



Interests
I have told you most of my fandoms, and I cannot be bothered to explain all of them, so I will mention the other stuff I like. Considering I play the violin, I don't listen to that much music. The artists I listen to only really consists of three; Journey, Daughtry and sometimes, depending on my mood- Scissor Sisters. Sometimes, if I can get myself off of the laptop (and I am not at work) I will go swimming. I don't know why, but I really like swimming, it has always been something I do. I always used to do it with my family, Mum, both my dads (before my biological dad passed) and my step-brother Heath. Now I go alone as Ash is usually busy with his girlfriend. I don't mind much, but swimming laps is a bit boring after a while.  
Video Games
I like my video games, I usually use hand held devices, so I play games like Pokémon and the Legend of Zelda but I am not a stranger to Minecraft. My favourite Pokémon has to be either Snorlax (Because we have so much in common) or Flareon, I find him strangely beautiful.  
Favourite Songs
x x x x x
Favourite Films
Sometimes, I watch films, and apart from the Harry Potters (Book Harry is better than film Harry to be honest) my favourite films have to be the Carry On films. They are just hilarious and I laugh every time even though I have watched them all so many times.
Favourite Animals
I'm not the biggest fan of animals, and most people would say my favourite animal is boring- but I adore puppies.


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PostSubject: Re: Characters   Mon Aug 04, 2014 6:01 pm




I'm breaking in, shaping up
Then checking out on the prison bus
This is it, the apocalypse


Name
Poppy Stonewell

Nicknames
Isn't Poppy short enough

Age
22

Date of Birth
21st of July

Gender
Female, of course

Sexuality
Either, depends on how my days going


I'm waking up, I feel it in my bones
Enough to make my systems blow
Welcome to the new age, to the new age


Hair
I guess you could say it's naturally long, brown and curly but I tend to dye it a different colour every month

Eyes
Brown, and they're mostly always smiling

Height
5ft 7"

Weight
Average, if a little bit over

Tattoos/Piercings
A tattoo of my name growing up my shoulder and a dragon earring.

Birthmarks
Freckles, dammit

Scars
An unusually shaped one on my forehead. It was given to me when my parents drove into a crocodile. My parents died in the crash but then the crocodile took out a knife and gave me a scar shaped like...a lightning bolt.
If you can't tell by now I'm being sarcastic. But I really do have a few normal scars on my arms from the crash.

Clothing
I usually wear dark colours and high boots with my favourite tights.


I'm waking up, I feel it in my bones
Enough to make my systems blow
Welcome to the new age, to the new age


Accent
Russian

Fake Accents
British (numerous regions), American, French, Scottish, Irish and German

Languages
Russian, French and English

Singing voice
Good, so people tell me

Illnesses
Slight OCD

Hobbies
Singing

Dreams
Having a family

Fears
-Death
-Rejection


I raise my flags, don my clothes
It's a revolution, I suppose
We'll paint it red to fit right in


Birth Place
No one knows but judging by the accent, Russia

Current Residence
A cheap apartment in Manhattan

Parent
Never had any as far as I can remember. They apparently died in a car crash when I was younger. I've been in foster homes ever since. We were on holiday at the time.

Siblings
None

Friends
Ditto

Kids
Look above ^

Pets
Non existent

Crush
Oh, look! A penguin!

Relationships
Heck no


All systems go, the sun hasn't died
Deep in my bones
Straight from inside


Religion
I don't believe in most of the views but I do believe in God.

Favourite colour, artist and song, book, place
Midnight blue, Bach's Cello Suit No.1, To Kill A Mockingbird, Hollywood Hills

Worst memories
Every time a couple was shown around the foster home and acted as though I was invisible.

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PostSubject: Re: Characters   Sun Sep 07, 2014 5:57 pm



x x x

She's just a girl and she's on fire
Hotter than a fantasy, lonely like a highway
She's living in a world and it's on fire
Filled with catastrophe, but she knows she can fly away



Basic
The whip of dyed blonde hair skimmed across your face, as she turned away from you in a cantankerous manner, talking to someone just out of your eye shot "You expecting me to talk to this..." She turns her heavily made-up head to look at you her eyes scanning you up and down quickly, while her pretty face formed at look of pure disgust "this baboon?" The answer she received was clear, as she scowled darkly at you, a look that could kill, flicking her fringe out of her face and crossing her arms just under her chest, effectively pushing her bust up. "Fine! My name is Cynthia Lawson. Or Cyndy to my friends, and bitch if you call me that, you will be beaten to a fucking pulp because I know people who will do anything for-" she is cut of by a angry voice who had spoken to her before. Cynthia grumbled something intelligible under her breath and continued, not looking directly at you. "I am 17 years old, my birthday is 5th June so I expect lots of gifts from you, and I am starting my senior year this September.  And I am the most popular girl. I am rich, beautiful, loved by everyone, a cheerleader and pretty intelligent. Everyone knows this combination makes you irresistible, and I am. I am running for Prom Queen and I know I will win it. All of others girls are just fucking-" An angry from the person "Sorry- freaking ugly and retarded. So there is no contest, which is always the best way in life as I always win. People like me always win in life, it's just how it is."



Looks
"As you can clearly see, I am possibly one of the prettiest people you will ever see." Cynthia's hair reaches just above her waist, which as mentioned before is a dyed sandy blonde. It is usually styled into 'casual' curls to make it look like her hair is naturally like this. Her eyes are a dark hazel green and covered in make-up such as mascara and glittered eye shadow. Her whole face is covered in make-up, giving her an almost airbrushed look. Her lips are a strikingly bright red which capture your eyes instantly, they are large and what most guys will say are perfectly kissable. However, even with her heavy make-up on, you can still see the three scars that trail down her left cheek. You start to point that out but she cuts you off, "None of your business, you pedo" So you move down her body. She is petite, in more ways than one. She wears high heels to make herself taller and you can clearly see that some of her is clearly fake. An estimated guess makes you think she is about 5ft4" and weighs about 45kg, most of that is probably just the fake parts of her body, considering there doesn't look like there is an ounce of meat on her bones.




Past
Cynthia seemed insistent not to talk about her scars, so you are handed a piece of paper with a small amount of writing on it. 'A few years ago, Cynthia was at her family's holiday home, and her dad left the kitchen while the chip pan was still on. The pan caught fire, and the whole kitchen was engulfed in flames. The glass is the room began heating up quickly, and the heat caused the glass to explode, which unfortunately for Cynthia was next to where she was sat. Shards of glass cut across her cheek, causing three large gashes across her cheek, she was eleven at the time. The main reason Cynthia hates talking about this fire was because the fire killed her mother, and she hates reliving the screams.' The paper was taken off of you "There, happy? Now you know why I hate my scars. I have to cover them in make-up or people will ask about them,  I hate them so much."



Cynthia
"I am interested in a lot of things, boys, mostly. Though I am very good at dancing, being the one everyone loves and fashion. That is my main interest, shopping and buying new clothes. It is impossible to wear the same clothes. It is like a crime, a fashion crime just like double denim. All my friends have to wear different clothing, it's a bit like Mean Girls in a way. I choose the colours/brand we wear on what day. It is very important they follow my fashion rules or they will no longer be in the group. My group are the 'Hot Girls' because that's exactly what we are. And I am the leader, which is obvious because I am the hottest of them all. My troop is very loyal, and they all will follow me to the grave. I know that. We, especially me, are adored by everyone, so we are the most popular girls, it is funny watching Freshmen try to be exactly like me. But none of them are as good as the real thing. They won't ever be." She flashed a very bright, beautiful smile, "I live with my dad, in the biggest house on the street. This house is perfect for parties, and since Dad is away most of the time. My parties are the best, the whole school knows this. I am the best"




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PostSubject: Re: Characters   Sun Sep 07, 2014 5:58 pm




it cannot be seen
but there's blood on the green
only god knows I'm innocent
take me, take me home
a dark seed reigns in me
like the storm rules over the sea
i challenge thee, do not cross
the bridge alone


Greetings, warrior. Welcome to my humble abode.
Agh, I'm sorry, I had to read Shakespeare for school,
it's rubbing off on me. I'm nowhere near eloquence.
I'm actually quote dumb when it comes to words. They
simply confuse me and I can never find the right ones
and I just make a fool out of myself. But I trailed off,
right? My name is Presto Todd Trenton. I wouldn't
comment if I were you. I can box. Which means I can
kill your sorry ass with one kick, a nose to the brain
and you're dead. I know about these things too much,
I'm afraid. I watch too much NCIS and Bones and stuff
which is pg-13, and I research a lot. My dream is to be
a detective someday, if it's anything like those shows.
People automatically assume that I kick ass both in and
out of my classes, but I'm a cuddly teddy bear, according
to my classmates. I'm 17, just for the record, so I'm
still an underage idiot, and I don't have a criminal record
yet, planning to keep it that way, mind you. I've lived
in Oklahoma my whole life, and I think it's kind of boring
here. Maybe not the entire Oklahoma, just my school.
It's pretty disgusting here, all the racism and general
discrimination. So, to use that term straight people just
adore, I'm in the closet. Where did they even get that phrase?




"No, don't-"
"Vanessa, freaking raise your hand!"
"You keep blocking me, I can't-"
"Fucking hit me!"
The air was hot and sticky with tension and sweat. And I
have to admit that I enjoyed it, I enjoyed breathing heavily.
I spend years in this room and I'll spend years that follow
in it. But I wish for better company. Vanessa was a novice
in boxing, and she had raw talent, but was unable to use it.
"Hit me! You can't do anything if you don't hit me!"
"But you're such a cute mushroom, I can't break your pretty
little face!" she kept on leaving weak punches on my chest.
Not good. She can't wreck anything there.
"I can't teach you if you don't try!" I was so frustrated with
her. I dropped all my defenses. "Come on. I know what you
can do, I saw you beat the shit out of Billy Clair a week ago,
I know what you can do! You can punch, okay? So
punch-" I shouldn't have given her the push. She knocked
me out with a punch to my jaw, close to my lips. But the
blood pressure was too much and I tasted blood in my
mouth. She immediately grabbed my arm so I wouldn't fall,
as if the punch was enough to bring me down.
"Oh my God I am so sorry are you okay?" Lips were always
the sensitive part of me, ever since my first - and last -
kiss, but the pain wasn't that much. I had worse.
"That's how you hit. From the top."




I was losing my shit.
"Fucking Mardi Gras", I ran around the classroom
grabbing everybody's lapels and yelling in their face.
"Presto, calm the fuck down", everybody kept telling
me, but I didn't care. I didn't listen. They could have
been throwing fire at me. They could have thrown
me into the water with then thousand billion sharks
and the sharks ate my flesh and bone. They could
have sent an entire zoo of lions to eat me. They
could have grilled me on a 6ft barbecue. They
could have done all those things at once.
But I didn't care.

It was Mardi Gras.

All the fluffy fabrics, all the colours, all the people,
it all gave me chills up and down my arms, and if
the others don't understand the greatness of being
someone else, just for an hour or so, I'm sorry
for their bland, grey souls.
Nothing's grey today.

It's Mardi Gras.




all the other kids with the pumped up kicks,
you better run, better run, outrun my gun.
all the other kids with the pumped up kicks,
you better run, better run, faster than my bullet

_________________
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did u mean "my writing at 2 am"
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PostSubject: Re: Characters   Sun Sep 14, 2014 12:49 pm



x x x

Just to dance with you
It's everything I need
Before this dance is through
I think I'll love you too
I'm so happy when you dance with me


Markus
My name is Craig Revel Horwood, and I am a judge on Strictly Come Dancing. Okay, I am lying, I am called Markus Baynton, and I am a receptionist at the Royal Academy Of Dance. A f similarity between Craig and I, is that we both love dancing, but that's it. Now, I would be a teacher at RAD, as teaching dance is one of my favourite things, but my favourite thing is the thing stopping me from becoming a teacher. Her name is Emily, and she is my daughter, more on her later.  I love teaching, usually dance, but with Emmie's school hours, it makes it almost impossible for me to pick her up from school while  working. So I stick with an office job but sometimes I get to be a supply teacher, I always look forward to that.  Because, I basically become God, those children will follow my every order, like a mini dancing army. We dance our enemy to death.

Emily
Emily is my daughter. Well, not really. I adopted her, or more she was dumped in front of me and I took her in.  Six years ago, I was 19 and  I lived in a tiny apartment next to an orphanage. I didn't mind that much since I was at college and I hardly spent any time there. But, one time I returned from college to find a basket on my doorstep. Thinking it was some muffins from some admirer, I took the basket inside and was very shocked to find a baby inside, with no note or anything. Just a blanket and baby. Someone's SatNav fucked up. I really didn't mind though, as I said before, Emily is the most important thing in my life. I didn't want to take her to the orphanage because I knew with her only being a few months old she would be bullied. So, I adopted her- best decision I ever made. The reason I took her in had nothing to do with the fact I couldn't be bothered to walk a couple steps to the orphanage. But Emmie is now my little Ballerina, and I am guilty to say I spoil her to death. Seeing her little smile is key.




Looks
x Emily and I couldn't look any more different. I have chocolate brown hair and eyes, while Emmie has bright red hair and green eyes. Plus, I most often have a beard which I am thankful Emmie doesn't because that would be weird, a six year old girl with a brown beard. Mm, odd. Anyway, I find with her not looking like me people don't like to accept that she is technically my daughter, for her sake I've kept it a secret she is adopted. Many children can't seem accept that. She believes her mother lives somewhere in Scandinavia. Off topic. Emmie loves pink, so most of the clothes I get her are pink and covered in animals, but her favourite clothes are her ballerina tutus and dresses. When she isn't wearing her school uniform she is always trying to get them on. Unfortunately, I bought her some ballerina pumps when she first moved in with me, and they still don't fit her. I wear more 'manly' clothing, including shirts and jeans, sometimes a hoodie if it is cold. I just tend to focus on Emmie and what she wants. I love seeing her happy.


Home
x We moved out of the house next to the orphanage when Emmie was two, and was about to start nursery. I had finished my college, so had a bit more money, and I bought a small two bedroom flat above a barbers [he gives us a discount on hair cuts, nice guy]. It only has three rooms, the bedrooms and a open plan kitchen. But it fits us perfectly, it isn't too far from my job and Emmie's school is close by. It is situated just on the edge of London, a ten minute walk to RAD and a street away from Emmie's primary school. As soon as Emmie is heading off to secondary school, we'll move again, because then I will be able to get a proper teaching job as her school hours will be longer. That house will be bigger, and have better access to the parks and tourist attractions of beautiful London.




Favourite:

☼Animal☼
Manakin Bird...

☼Song☼
Mr Bojangles ~ Robbie Williams

☼Dance☼
Rhumba

☼Colour☼
Dark blue

☼Place☼
Royal Academy of Dance

☼Possession☼
Pig dancing on a four-leaf clover statue...

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PostSubject: Re: Characters   Thu Sep 18, 2014 7:19 pm



x x x x x

Ev James Griffin. How do I begin to explain Ev James? Ev James is flawless.
But I think that's more than enough Mean Girls quotes, yeah? Hi, I'm Ev, or
Evvie, or whatever nickname you can possibly get out of the name Everette.
Believe me, I heard it all. Masculine, feminine. I don't mind it. I'm both. I'm
around 26, ish...? Somewhere along these lines. I... kinda... forgot my birthday.
And I'm too lazy to check it. Heh. Yeah. That's my life. I did something,
but I can't remember what in a few year's time. BASically... my life centres
around my Instagram selfies, shocking people and work. That's all I do. Oh,
and gardening. No, not flowers, flowers are way too pretty for me. I grow
tomatoes, potatoes and other dirty stuff that grows in the dirt. Because
I obviously can't have nice nails. But okay. I guess there were some confusions
about my gender because of my upper text, and I'll explain that later. BUT.
But. I like guys. I do guys. Actually I don't. I haven't done a guy in years.
I shouldn't complain, though. Some people haven't done anybody. Poor
some people. But okay, next subject? What should I tell you about myself?
I work as an office worker (no shit), I deal with e-mails, websites, publicity,
stuff like that, I'll bore you. I've worked for a lot of companies in that field,
sports, fashion, private, you name'em. I don't have a particular career in
mind as my favourite, I literally do nothing but update my Instagram in
my free time. Sad, I know. I'm so much popular online.




You know what I hate about myself? My hair. My freaking hair. It's like
damp noodles, but emo. Emo damp noodles. Write that down somewhere,
that's the most artisticy description I've ever come up with. Love me.
Anyway, it's black and half medium length, semi short. Yeah, something.
It's chin length to not complicate it any further. Sometimes I spike it up,
sometimes I just shove it away from my face. Screw my hair. My eyes,
well, I like my eyes. Good for edits. They're, blue, grey, ish?? Something
in the middle of it all. Big, but I rarely put any makeup on them, above
them? Never mind. I rarely apply any eye makeup, because I like to focus
on my lips when it comes to makeup. Eyes, I put eyeliner and glasses.
Tinted sunglasses. I'm a rockstar. You don't need to know who I am.
But I don't, err, actually write music. No music for me. The only music I
write are the groans early in the morning when I have to wake up to
go to work. But I like to listen to music, all kinds. Mostly old-style heavy
metal and rock, techno, Evanescence, continue this list on your own.
Now, people say that classical music makes plants grow faster, so
that means I'm sending my plants into a massive homicide when I dance
around the garden on 'Highway to Hell'. RIP plants. Sorry not sorry.



"Trees are stalking me, they probably saw my Instagram"

I'm non-binary, or genderqueer, or whatever you wish to call me.
I identify with both genders equally, though I'm biologically female.
Comment all you want, I heard it all. I feel like I'm repeating myself.
Anyway, I dress up the way I wish, heels, no heels, makeup, no
makeup, I'm pretty fluid when it comes to the physical representation,
I literally put on clothes I want, no matter what gender it was made
for. Yes, of course there are some ignorant people around here, but
I learnt how to ignore them and focus on the good. For an example,
I have the quirkiest roommate, we live in literally no space at all,
and yet I still managed to cram my garden on our balcony and she
has ALL HER MARVEL COMICS in our bedroom. Yes, we share a bedroom,
but we have separate beds, don't get your hopes up. I'm blissfully
single and am probably going to stay so until I get a better job.
Like a Professional Selfie Taker or something like that.



"Absolutely no filter. Except, like, sepia and black and white and a bunch of others, the light here doesn't work on me"


It was during my college job periods, where I had literally no time
at all for myself and wore the same clothes all the time, didn't
even bother to spike up my hair (the most feminine period of
my life. Even as a kid I wore my brother's clothes). I was working
for a football club, I sent out their newsletters and such. And of
course we saw some very hunky strapping young lads. And of
course, Hanna (my co-worker) and I got quite a lot of flirting
those days. It was hilarious. We usually didn't reply, but when
I was about to transfer into another company, I decided to,
ah, tell them off.
"Hey, hottie, what's a pretty girl like you doing alone?" Now,
the original plan was to show them a ring on my finger (which
I got from Hanna, who is, surprise, surprise, MARRIED), but I
decided, why not. Might make the boys question their sexuality.
"I'm not actually a girl, but thanks. I'm open, though", I winked
at the footballer while Hanna roared in laughter.
"Dude looks like girl", was his next, perplexed comment.
"Not really a dude, bro", I replied steadily, and around that
I think Hanna actually suffocated from laughing so much.
And that is my best sharing story. That, or the time my phone
fell into a water-fountain when I tried to take a selfie. But
that's a completely different story.



"A little bit of old school black and white"

Nothing’s gonna hurt you the way that words do
When they settle ‘neath your skin
Kept on the inside and no sunlight
Sometimes a shadow wins
But I wonder what would happen if you

Say what you wanna say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave
With what you want to say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave



"You stalkers asked me for a picture with no filter. Pedos"

Wake up in a new day but it don't feel that new
Same faces around me with the same point of view
Everything is perfect, everything's ok
Just swallow the lies and let your emotions fade
But my heart won't be quiet, I feel a change

I'm ready now, it's time, gotta go, gotta get out of this town
And leave my fear behind, nothing left over here can't stick around
My dreams are loud and my heart's wide awake
And all I know is I'm not meant to be silent

_________________
michigan lake blue, breast cancer awareness pink, nina's purple


did u mean "my writing at 2 am"
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PostSubject: Re: Characters   Thu Oct 16, 2014 5:53 pm


"Crazy" is, I believe, the medical term
When we wanna recover, but we don't wanna learn
Keep breaking what's been fixed a thousand times
And gimme some more of that iodine


Before you say anything, I am a Professor at this university, not a student as so many think I am. I may act like a drugged up, drunk teenager, but I am in fact a drugged up drunk Professor. There is a difference. One, I am not a student, two, I don't sleep with students (often enough) and three I am thirty years young. Right, now that's over, my name is Frankie Melson, Proffle Waffle, according to some students. Though, it is true, I do eat a lot of waffles. What? Waffles are good.
 I am a Professor of Chemistry at the University of Nottingham, but that isn't my main source of money, With a job like mine, it is so easy to figure out how to make artificial  drugs and sell them to students, they always pay so much, which is odd considering the price of their fees. Kidding, I'm kidding, I don't sell drugs to students- often. Okay, not at all. Drugs are bad, kids, unless you mix them with alcohol then they're a whole load of fun. Clubbing is the best part of uni, even if I am supposed to set a 'good example' to the kids, and turning up to work the next day with a huge hangover is not the best influence, actually it's a very good influence; on what the government doesn't want you to be. But hey, life isn't about pleasing the government or how many girls I manage to bed, it's more about having fun. Hmm, bedding girls is very fun, so yes life is about bedding girls, especially if they're straight, they get so confused about what they're supposed to do. My short black hair and lack of boobs and bum make them think I am male. Though, none have ever said no once they found out my gender.
You can probably see my problem here, I am addicted to the University life of a student. But Goddamn fuck it, I love it and no one is gonna stop me from loving it. Unless my back goes, I mean I am thirty, on average twelve years older than the students, I'm old. But age is just a number right? And before you say anything about my drinking habits ruining my student's chances of getting a good education, I have you know only one student has failed in my five years here, and that guy was a fucking moron. I have no idea how even managed to get into my class, failing just made him look even more of a retard. I think being drunk makes my lessons so much more interesting for students, so they remember stuff. Though I have gone to the wrong classes a few times x, which has ended very interestingly.


Favourite Song:
Get The Party Started ~ Shirley Bassey- This song, basically, is my life, without me, all the teenagers would know knack all about how to party like a true partier.

Favourite Book:
I have you know, I do read, erm, that Barry Potter is very good. Is it Barry? Yeah.

Favourite Place:
That nightclub, I always forget it's name, I am probably drunk before I get there, so remembering its name is tricky, but it is in Nottingham.. Tough during hangovers, my bed is the best place.

Favourite Food:
Waffles. No explanation needed.



(laziest char ever but i love her)
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PostSubject: Re: Characters   Sat Nov 29, 2014 9:10 pm

Montgomery Jean Blanchette


x x

Montgomery Jean Blanchette was a tall, slender man with long limbs, like he hadn't quite grown into his body during puberty. He sat on a chair and had one of his legs under himself as he impatiently tapped the side of his chair with one of the many rings he had stacked up on his delicate, bony fingers. His clothing style was out-of-place, dark and edgy against the clear and soft lines of the room behind him. He wore a grey shirt with a city print on it on it, at least three sizes too big,  jeans, which were a slightly better fit, and an impressive amount of jewelry for a man. Leather bracelets in many earthy shades, some thick and some thin; two dogtag chains, one with two and one with one tag; around a dozen rings, most small but a couple of chunky, flat ones, and, finally, a nose ring, which clung tightly to his skin, as if it was there since he was born. He had hazel eyes, brown with just a hint of green, but even though he couldn't be more than thirty, his eyes looked older. A brown flop that was supposed to be his hair looked like he just washed it, it was airy and poofy and possibly a nightmare to style or just to maintain. "Are you done with examining me?" he asked. There was no anger in his voice, just exhaustion and submissiveness. He played with a string from one of his bracelets. The jewelry looked like it was his choice; clothes, not so much. "I'm Mon, from York, I'm twenty-six, I've been here for nine years." It seemed like it was his whole life story in a single sentence, but there was more. Of course there was. You can't help but notice the scratches on the closet behind him. Tally marks. Like in prison, he counted days. For him, in this case, 'here' meant a small room in social services, the department for eighteen and down. He, of course, well outaged that line, but he didn't have the mental stability to change his surroundings. Not yet, at least.



You asked him about his family. His face darkened. "I haven't heard a word from my family in nine years. I could be dead, for all they care. Not much to say about them, then." You insisted. "Mum's a shop assistant, dad's a builder. Sister, four years older, she moved out when I was fourteen. Moved with her boyfriend to France. I never went outside England." He looked over your shoulder, silent for a few seconds. He returned his gaze, sharper this time, to you. "They don't visit, they haven't. Ever. And they haven't talked to be, since-" he choked, something hitched in his throat. You'd reached the line you mustn't cross. He took a long, shallow breath. He avoided the subject, but not completely. "Since they discovered I'm gay. It's unfanthonable for them that their only male child, the one to carry the surname, wilk not spread the family bloodlines or whatever. I don't blame them." His look on you rose its level of intensity. "If I could change, I would. I swear I would. I didn't choose this. But I can't. I can't settle down with a girl, I can't have children with her. I can't. It's wrong, I'm wrong. To be honest, 'settling down' with anyone right now seems unreachable." He let out a soft sigh and looked away, moving his hair from his face, which caused a clicking noise from one of his bracelets. "Okay. I am okay. More on my family, then? Dad is a typical country kid, born and raised in a small, Catholic community. The fact that he married a member of a high class, French family means a great deal there. I hear mum has property in France, but she never took me or my sister." He shrugged. "I don't really care. The more I'm away from them, the more I realise that I don't care what they're doing or what they've done or haven't done. The more I dislike them. They say it's impossible to hate your family. I say I'm getting closer and closer to that every day, and I have no doubt that, one day, when I'm much older, I'll hate them. I'll see the whole situation from a different angle and I'll hate them. They left me here. I was seventeen, and so alone." He looked away one last time.



"He's not supposed to be in here", said his doctor, Dorian Greene, once you've exited the small room he was in."He's not. He's too good for this place, it has a 'mental hospital' vibe." He showed you to sit down. "I have been here for him, as his psychiatrist, ever since he arrived. I've comforted him when he cried, I've calmed him down during his anxiety attacks, and I witnessed him smile for the first time in years. You know", he turned around and crossed his arms on his chest, "male-on-male rape is a subject which has been thrown under the carpet for too long. Even worse so, that the man who attacked Montgomery", he subtly ignored the word 'rapist', "was released, without charges to his name. He has a wife and children, they said he couldn't have done what the charges we lay down on him said. But I saw." He gulped, remembering. "I was the assistant nurse when a passerby called an ambulance. I don't know who that passerby was, but I thank them to Heavens. If we'd arrived any later, he would have died of bloodloss." He shivered, like he was cold. But that was not the case. "Now, we're not only talking about rape, we're talking about physical assault. With a knife." Both his fists and jaw tightened, clenching the armrest. "I can't even imagine what went through his mind that night. See, he was seventeen. Nothing more than a child." To keep himself away from hitting something, he turned away from you and started fiddling with the papers on his desk. It took him a few minutes to calm down, and when he did, he returned to you. His voice sounded hollow. "Montgomery has a soul of a child and a heart of an artist. He's a sculptor", he explained, clearly avoiding the former subject. "The only person here allowed to have sharp objects, a carving kit. He often picks up rocks from the backyard park, or just carves patterns into apples he gets. When he works, with his silly glasses with a huge diopter and a focused look on his face, now that's the real Mon. It's him the way he was before, the genuinly happy one. I'm glad he decided to open up to me, he really is a wonderful person. Stubborn, yes, snarky, also, silly, all the s words. But caring, calm and cheerful also." He nodded towards a picture of a wedding of sorts. "He even went to my wedding, gave my wife a beautiful, wooden ring he engraved himself. It all went downhill when a girl asked him to dance and he spent the rest of the night having a panic attack in the toilets. It was two years after. Montgomery's… Fragile. To be handled with care." He smiled softly and finished the conversation.




Can I get a witness
For the bruises and the waisted tears
I just can't forget you
And your heart of stone



_________________
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did u mean "my writing at 2 am"


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PostSubject: Re: Characters   Wed Dec 03, 2014 7:00 pm




Who is the man I see
Where I'm supposed to be?
I lost my heart, I buried it too deep
Under the iron sea.

x

A vacant stare, looking anywhere but at you. The blue eyes flicker across the room in what seems to be a nervous, or frightened way. But he wasn't frightened, nor was he even nervous.
In fact, he showed no emotion at all. You could feel an icy vibe coming off of him, it made you not want to be in his presence for too long, but you were persistent and sat on the stool at the
pub where you found this man, slowly drinking his fifth beer from the bottle. He lifted the brown glass bottle to his lips, taking a tiny but fulfilling sip.
"I don't know why you're here to talk to me" He said, his voice dusky, but  in no means was it slurred, nor did any of his words trip over themselves. You began to wonder how high his alcohol
tolerance must be for him to be so steady after so many beers.
"I'm just the local depressive drunk." He was sat alone, apart from yourself, everyone pointedly avoiding him. But at seeing you weren't going to move, he sighed, took another sip, before a flick
of his hand gestured to the bar maiden to get him another drink, Clearly, this was his main signal for another drink as the woman behind the counter knew instantly what he wanted.
"'M Hughes. Gabriel Joshua Hughes. I am an unemployed, Law graduate living by himself in a huge mansion in the south  Oklahoma City." He started on his sixth beer, the bottle tipping as this time,
rather than a small sip like the ones before, he took a large gulp. With his neck tilted up, you could see the dark shadow of a stubble just visible in this dull light. " At 27, one would expect me to
be a full time lawyer, living with a girl of my dreams, possibly a child or two running around my feet, would you not?"
He laughed, in a laugh humourless and sombre. "What can one do when
she's dead? Killed by her own lover"
You began to question who her lover was, but he cut you off,
"He found out I loved her, He threatened me, told me to stay away from her, stay away from him. I didn't. I FUCKING DIDN'T" He started shouting now, the bar maid giving him an angry glance but
not bothering to try to calm the man down. "HE SHOT HER. He said he would. He said. He said." He had quietened, his voice so soft you had to lean in to hear him. His emotionless atmosphere he
had before he started speaking had vanished completely, Sadness was radiating off of him, such a power emotion you could feel yourself billowing up with tears of forgotten memories.
"In front of me, he killed the only person I loved.. He said it was my punishment. My punishment for making her think she other options other than him."






You take a deep breath before asking the question you hoped wouldn't make him flip.
Who was she? He downed the rest of the beer, clicking his fingers for another.
"She was the most beautiful woman I had ever met. She was my best friend. I knew her all through high school." He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, as if remembering times long ago. Another
sip of the beer before he started again,
"Her name was Lydia, with long black hair, bright electrifying green eyes. We were the best of friends, we were joined at the hip, and I wouldn't have had it any other way. I loved her. So, so much.  It was
the day of the prom I lost her. We were going to go as friends, y'know as friends do, and on the last dance, I was going to tell her. Tell her I loved her. I should have done it sooner. George, the fucking bastard,
came over to her. He was one of those jocks, y'know? The ones all the girls love with their jerseys and super muscles. I was the nerdy kid always carrying my drawing notebook. George came over and asked for
a dance, and that was it. I lost her. I. COULDN'T. TELL. HER."
 






He hit his fist down on the bar, making you and probably the rest of the pub jump. He took deep breaths, calming himself down before continuing.
"He was abusive. Oh so abusive to her. Verbally and physically. He never loved her. I told her to leave him, when she came to me crying, almost everyday. She refused every time, saying he was the one she deserved
and he loved her. That bastard deserved no one. He hurt my Lydia."
He was becoming more and more unsteady as his bottle became more and more empty. "One day she came to me with a black eye, swollen so much you
couldn't see her eyes that used to be sparkling emeralds. But they had lost their colour, the more she was with him. But that was the final straw. I called the cops, and went to their house myself. He got angry, reminding me
about the  threat he had made after their first dance; he told me never to tell her anything of how I feel or he would hurt her. But he hurt her anyway. I should have said earlier. I should have. I should have."
He was crying now,
tears running from his eyes, hitting the material of his dirty clothing, clothing that once would have been very expensive and professional looking. "He got arrested, and I got sent to some mental hospital place. They gave me so
many depression pills I could make all the drug addicts in this country high. Drinking was the only thing that helped me. But my parents hated that, they got angry at me, told me to stop. I didn't, so they left me.
Left me to die, in a sense."
He stood up, gave you a glance over before snorting,
"You fucking bitch, I hope you enjoy writing that fucking article about the half dead man, drinking his sad life away"




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PostSubject: Re: Characters   Sun Dec 21, 2014 1:18 pm



x x

"You're looking for Icarus?" You were on an American military base,
for aircraft and watercraft, with a mission to interview the youngest
non-American pilot ever to enter the recruit program. You were
given only the name Icarus, and that was it. Luckily, the pilots
and or captains were willing to cooperate. "He's in his room, most
definitely, room six nine six. Appropriate, if you ask me", and he sent
you in the probable direction of soldier rooms. "And if he's not there,
I have no idea where he'd be. Sorry. Try to find a not really guy,
a boy, with a ridiculous shirt. Or, just, search for Vincent. Guys know
who he is." You headed towards the rooms, or, rather, the laughter
coming from it. You knocked, and the laughter stopped. "I'm not doing
anything incriminating, sir, no, sir!" A voice, with a clearly not American
accent, came from the room with so many posters on the door you
couldn't see its number. "Talkin' to my mother, yes, sir!" You knocked
again, and a minute later, the door opened. "Oh. You're not sir." He
looked just a bit disappointed. The door opened fully, revealing a not
too short, not too tall boy, with hair not too long and not too short,
and not too blond, not too brunet. He was average looking, but his
big grin and charisma made up to it. He leant on the door and raised
his eyebrows. Clearly not disappointed anymore. "Hello." You resist
the urge to flip him off, because he was checking you out. "You're
here for the interview thingy? Yeah, come in." He closed the door
behind you. The room was a small, standard block, with a bed, a
closet and a desk with a laptop. There were various books stacked
against all the vertical flat surfaces, all the classics like 1984., Great
Gatsby and some even on other languages. Not to mention the t-shirts
all over the horizontal flat surfaces. "It's messy. Not going to apologise
for that. You were meant to come earlier, and it was clean. I mean,
earlier." He sat down on his desk chair and showed you to sit down
on the bed, on which there was no place. "So, questions?"



Vincent Carter Junior. That's my name. I'm the second Vincent Carter,
the first one was my dad. I don't know why they call me Icarus, maybe
because I'm suicidal? No, no, I'm joking. They call me that because I was
the first one to do the manouvre thingy, the fun, loopy one. Icarus, because
I was sixteen at the time. You know, I wanted to fly since I was a kid, and
since my whole family part my parents are in Australia, I flew from New Zealand
to Australia at least three times a year. Flying is fun, you know. Never did I
think I'd become a military pilot for the United States, but you know. Life.
And stuff. I'm not complaining, of course. I get food, cash, place to stay,
free planes to do stunts with, and people here are tight. Have you seen
the pilot guys? Or the medicine gals. Shit. It's not like I've been with everyone
on this base. I act like it, though. I could be, if I wanted to. But no. Not the
man for one night stands. Even though, I don't know what I'm a man for. In
my twenty four years, I haven't had a stable relationship. Of course, the prom
and its aftermath, the parties where there's beer in plan... Trust me, don't get
me drunk. Not a good idea. The guys here got me drunk. Once. They won't be
making that mistake again. I turn into a prostitute when I'm drunk. But enough
on that. My shift on this base ends in half a year, and then I can do whatever
I want. The military counts on me to not resign, but if I do, I get a place in
Washington DC and it's all uphill from there. Yeah, it's been pretty awesome so
far. Might find myself a person to settle down with, and life shall be good. I say
person, because I'm heavily bisexual. Heavily. If you want, put that theory to
the test. I lean towards guys though, but maybe it's because I'm only surrounded
by them nowadays. By nowadays, I mean, the eight years I spent on the base.
I know, it seems like a lot, but made me skip high school and college and gained
me military background, do you know how much greater is than... school? It's
better this way, trust me. I'm quite stupid. No A student. Actually, this military
program was the only was I could ever get knowledge. I wouldn't study if I went
to school. Yes, I know, I'm stupid. Deal with me.



Now I know that I'm not
All that you got, I guess that I, I just thought
Maybe we could find new ways to fall apart
But our friends are back
So let's raise a tab
'Cause I found someone to carry me home

_________________
michigan lake blue, breast cancer awareness pink, nina's purple


did u mean "my writing at 2 am"
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PostSubject: Re: Characters   Tue Dec 23, 2014 11:10 pm



x xx

Oh well I look at you and say
It's the happiest that I've ever been
And I'll say I no longer feel I have to be James Dean
And she'll say
"Yah well I feel all pretty happy too"
And I'm always pretty happy when I'm just kicking back with you

Yuki
My name is Yuki Blossom Popleton. I love this name; Yoo-Kee Blos-Some Pop-Ul-Ton. It's so quirky and cute, so I try to be exactly like that, I definitely know I am quirky. Yuki means snow, it's Japanese I think. Though my name may suggest otherwise, my parents are in no way Japanese, to be quite honest we're from South Africa. Before you ask, no I can't speak any African at all. The place I am from only really speaks English. I'm not sure where the surname Popleton comes from, it just has a zing to it. I pops out at you, and I love it. I try to live up to my name. Just like snow, I'm soft, gentle and quiet, Blossom I'm the colour after the sorrow, Popleton, I am quirky. I don't think the quirkiness is really showing is it right now? I guess I should mention some things. I'm a cosplayer. Mainly the tenth Doctor, but I do do Captain Jack Sparrow. I dress up like for kids' parties or conventions, but mainly I do it for my Youtube channel. I upload parodies, songs, anything really where I can try and make at least one person smile. That's my main aim of everything I do. Make one person smile. I know if one person has smiled, their day has improved if they've had a bad one and they might not do anything negative to themselves. Plus, if I make them happy, there is a chance they will improve the mood of someone else, who will improve them mood of someone else and so on. It will be a continuous chain, until everyone is at least a bit happier.



Life
At 22, I finished a course in Media studies at Sheffield University, okay that makes it sound like it was ages ago! I'm not that old. I am 24, and I am putting the MA in Media to good use. I create and edit my own videos, with a bit of help for costumes by my sister. I love writing the scripts and the music I do think it's the best part, apart from watching people's reactions to them. I do this mainly with my sister, as she does the final checks. She is my best friend, we share a flat in Sheffield near the shopping centre of Meadowhall where she works in a makeup shop. My sister is called Amaya, Japanese again. She is two years younger than me, and we spend most of our free time together. I do love that girl.
Until I was ten, I lived in South Africa, but then Dad got a job in the UK, so we had to move to the City of Sheffield for his business. Though the UK was colder than Africa and there was less of the wildlife, Amaya and I loved it, I doubt we will ever live in another country. We moved out of our family home when we ist went to University, wanting to have more independence, even though we visit home every Saturday with our washing; benefit of not going far away from home.



Spare Time
People won't believe me but video making takes a long time, especially when it is just me doing the writing. I wouldn't change what I do for the world though, even if I don't get a lot of spare time. I do spend that time watching tv, and if I can be bothered, painting. I love watercolours, painting any sceneries I wish I would be able to visit one day, even if they aren't real. I never cheap these paintings, I always give them to charity, framed and unsigned. The mixture of bright colours would brighten someone's bedroom, and the lack of dull colours makes sure they see a happy painting, no negativity. I make sure the money used to buy the painting goes to charity, since I don't need any of the money myself, Dad is a good piggy bank.



Looks
I have brown eyes which I hope can be described as soft and happy. They do match my hair though, dark flowing brown. I always keep my look as natural as possible, with light clothing which won't really catch your eye. This because I know there is more interesting things to look at in the world than the clothes and makeup I am wearing. My appearance is soft and gentle, like a constant embrace keeping your heart warm. That's how I always want to appear, how I want people to see me. A positive glow of warmth they can go to if they ever feel low and hated. I will always be there to love them.


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PostSubject: Re: Characters   Sat Jan 03, 2015 6:50 pm



x

After a few flights of stairs, you find a light blue painted door. Two numbers and a letter were wonkily nailed onto it, reading 54a, around your feet were little items of interest, including a ball of what looked to be ball of brown yarn, a pot of wilted flowers and a welcome mat.  You knock on it, and after a loud clatter, and a slight delay, the door is opened.
"Oh! Hallå! Hello! I wasn't expecting any visitors today. Sorry, what day is it?" The young woman checks what seems to be a calender taped to the wall beside the door. You couldn't see past her or the door, so you couldn't see into the small room behind her. x She was wearing a light grey jumper, jeans, grey socks and pink accessories. "Oh. I'm sorry, you're meant to be here today" She smiled at you, stepping out of the way,
"Come in, come in" She stepped out of the way to allow you walk into the flat. x She led you over to a sofa and allowed you to sit down. "I'm Maybellene Ljungborg, but call me Maybel." She smiled sweetly, her voice was slightly high pitched, with a very light Swedish accent. "Let me get you something to eat." She quickly scampered off into the kitchen. "You're lucky, I made cookies" She placed a plate with a pile of cookies on on the small coffee table in front of you. She sat on the sofa close to her,
"Well, I guess, you're here to find out about me. I'm a 24 year old Swede, and I work in a bakery down the road. That's my true passion in life; baking. I'm trying to save money up until I am able to create my own bakery, selling sugar, spice and every thing nice!" Maybel smiled brightly at you, "It has been my dream since I was a litet barn, oh, sorry. I do that too often" She laughed slightly, "Since I was a little child. I moved to New York to try and make it possible. It is the place where dreams come true."



A nudge at you foot made you glance down to see a creature climbing over it. "Oh my. I'm sorry" Maybel reached forwards and grabbed a small tortoise of the floor.
"This is Alfie, the only thing I love. Well, I don't really believe in love. People say that's a strange thing. I don't really think so. I mean, I believe in unconditional love, a parent loving their child, but I don't believe that you can fall in love with someone. It's just something made up by the media." She nodded towards the newspaper in front of you.
" This doesn't mean that I'm a hermit or something, I like being around people as much as the next person. I just don't think there is such thing as love or something which makes you want to do anything for that person, to give up your life to protect theirs. People say I should just wait until I find the right person, then I'll understand. But how will I know who they are?" She shrugged nonchalantly, taking a cookie off of the plate and snapped a piece off to eat.
"I would say I am asexual, but then, I am open-minded. I could always meet the right person and have my mind changed, so for now, I will say I am demisexual."



Maybel smiled lightly at you, placing the tortoise back on the floor, "Nothing in my past really made me believe this. My parents were away on business trips all the time, and I was an only child, so I spent most of my time home alone. I don't think that affected me. I had plenty of friends who I saw almost everyday, so I wasn't alone alone." She stood up and passed you a picture of what seemed to be a younger with three people surrounding her, two girls and one boy." Signe, Polly and Felix," She pointed at each individual person on the photo.
"I grew up in Gävle in Eastern Sweden. I loved it there, but I've always wanted to travel to America. So, after graduating college, I moved to New York. I like Sweden, but it just doesn't have the zing New York does."



There was nothing else you needed to know about Maybel, so you stood, "Adjö. Thank you for popping round. Here," She handed you some cookies, "It was lovely to meet you" She waved before she led you out of the door. "Adjö!"


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PostSubject: Re: Characters   Sun Jan 04, 2015 8:18 pm



x x
Now dance, fucker, dance
Man, he never had a chance
And no one even knew
It was really only you
And now you steal away
Take him out today
Nice work you did
You’re gonna go far, kid.


"OH MY GOD. THIS IS MY JAM. OI! YOU!" A finger lifted and pointed at you, a very enthusiastic dancer at the other end of it, "DANCE WITH ME, SUGAR" He was shouting, and really there was no need for him to be. He was only a few foot in front of you, and the music wasn't that loud, but he seemed happy so you didn't mention it. He was reasonably short, just bordering 5'6", he had brown hair, but quite striking blue eyes that lit up brightly with his smile. He grabbed your hand, and started dancing quite rapidly, and out of beat to the song that was playing. Having no choice but to join in, his grin somehow began to grow,
"Randy! I am Randy" He said, "Oh don't worry, I won't hit on you. Well, I'll try not to. Not drunk enough for that yet" He announced loudly.
"Actually, scrap that. Are you a guy? No? Shame. Could've taken you home. Still could but... yeah..." His eyes studied your body and he shook his head.
"Nope" He popped the 'p' loudly. "Just not doing it. Sorry honey" His smile didn't drop, nor did he move away from you. He just kept dancing badly and happily. Once the song had finished he grabbed your hand again and dragged you over to a more quiet corner.
"Shit DJ is shit. Playing a great song then this SHIT." He was a loud character, seeming to want to get his opinion heard by every other beingin the room. "No matter how hot he is, if he plays shit music it's over before it has even began blooming" He hunched his shoulders, tapping his foot restlessly against the ground. "Get me a beer Sugar. Raspberry flavoured" He passed you a card before pushing you off towards the bar.


Name: Rudolph 'Randy' Green
Birth date: 8th August 1989
Age: 24 years
Nationality: White, American
Sexuality: Homosexual
Parents: David Green, Katherine Green
Siblings: Nancy (29 years)


"Finally! Took you long enough, GOD, just can't get the staff nowadays" He winked at you as he took his beer, "Cheers!"



x x x


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PostSubject: Re: Characters   Sun Jan 04, 2015 10:57 pm



x
[Jo (you're in your funky british accent) si (sea) pa (pa in part)
Đuli (Julie)
Gu (gu in guru) n (n) du (do) li (lee) ć (tch, ch)]

She came along with the summer
Approached and said: "Hello"
Our looks said
More than words

Like a star from sky
Fell into my palm
About her I only knew,
her name was Đuli

--
Stigla je sama sa ljetom
prišla i rekla: "Hello"
pogledi su nam govorili
vise od riječi

K'o da se zvijezda sa neba
spustila meni na dlan
znao sam samo o njoj
da zove se Đuli


You knocked on the door of a small apartment in a big building.
In front of the door, there wasn't a thing which would tell you
there was a person living in there, apart from a small, tilted
plate which said 'J. Gundulić', and a marker scribbling 'turn around
and leave if I didn't invite you'. That would usually make you give
up on that flat and J. Gundulić, but, she invited you. There was a
sound, indecipherable, which you would translate as 'shit, have I
planned anything for today?'. You didn't give up. In about a minute
and a half there was a click of the door, and she appeared in front
of you. "Oh. Hello. Sorry. I was in the shower. Sorry, really, I forgot.
Come on in." She opened the door more so you could enter, so you
used the opportunity to study her appearance. She was petite, but
strongly built, wrapped in a towel, with wet, brown hair which reached
her lower back. She had the posture of the Queen of England, like
she wasn't ashamed at all to stand in front of you, half nude, with
bunny slippers. "I don't know why we're doing this. I'm not interesting."
Just the way she spoke was interesting. You would connect her accent
with Russia, with the east, but it was a bit softer. She wanted to hide
it, and she partially succeeded, but her rs, ts and oos were a bit too
twisted for her to be a native speaker. "You know what?" You twitched
from the loudness of her voice, so you looked back at her. She had
pulled the towel up, which had, seemingly, fallen, but she managed to,
somehow, wrap it around her body. "I'm too hung-over for this. Wait
a second, I will go get dressed." You obediently looked away until she
regained balance and clambered off in the direction of the bathroom.

--
Pokucala si na vrata malog apartmana u velikoj zgradi. Ispred
vrata, nije bilo stvari koje bi ti kazale da u stanu netko prebiva,
do jadnog, nakrivljenog natpisa, 'J. Gundulić', i markerom ispod
toga naškrabanog 'okreni se i otiđi ako te nisam zvala'. To bi
te inače udaljilo od tog apartmana i J. Gundulić, ali, pozvala te.
Začuo se uzvik, nedešifrivljiv, koji bi po zvuku protumačila na
ovaj način: 'sranje, zar sam isplanirala nešto za danas?' Nisi
posustala. Za oko minutu i pol začulo se škljocaj vrata, i ona
se pojavila pred tobom. "Oh. Bok. Oprosti. Tuširala sam se.
Sori, stvarno, zaboravila sam. Daj, uđi." Otvorila je vrata više
da uđeš, pa si imala priliku proučiti njenu pojavu. Bila je sitna,
ali jake građe, umotana u ručnik i vlažne, smeđe kose koja joj
je sezala do pola leđa. Držala se kao kraljica Engleske, kao
da je uopće nije sram što stoji ispred tebe, polugola, sa bijelim
zeko šlapicama. "Ne znam zašto ovo radimo. Ja nisam interesantna."
Samo način na koji je govorila bio je interesantan. Njezin naglasak
bi povezala sa Rusijom, sa istokom, ali ne toliko tvrd. Željela ga
je sakriti, i to joj je djelomično uspijevalo, ali njezini 't', 'r' i 'oo'
su bili previše iskrivljeni da bude izvorni govornik. "Znaš što?"
Trgnula si se zbog jačine njenog glasa, pa si bacila pogled na
nju. Bila je kupila ručnik koji joj je, izgleda pao, ali ga je uspjela
nekako, na jedvite jade omotala oko svog tijela. "Previše mamurna
sam za ovo. Pričekaj sekundu, sad ću se obući." Poslušno si
gledala u stranu dok se ona nije pokupila i odvukla u kupaonicu.




Moon twinkles over Vrbak
Silvering the sky are the swarms of stars
And water droplets, like pearls
Shining, all over her

And I kiss the good, I kiss the easy
Some real, some not
And they all are faeries, no, they're all queens
And they're meaningless compared to her

--
Mesec tinja nad Vrbakom
srebri nebo zvezda roj
a kapi vode kao biseri
koji blistaju svud po njoj

I ljubim dobre, ljubim lake
neke prave, a neke ne
i sve su vile, ma, sve su kraljice
i sve su nevazne naspram nje


"You can call me Josipa. Or Đuli, if you wish." In a minute or so she
appeared in the living room - which was small, with clothes thrown
over furniture, half-empty crisp bags, fully empty, but not many Jäger
beers, and, as a contrast, school books, some with English, some with
Croatian covers. You've managed to nestle into the mess, and when
Đuli came, she moved the pens, notebooks and microwaved dinners
off of a kitchen chair and sat next to you, cowboy style. "Actually, Đuli
is okay, people who call me Josipa are generally older than me, but
even if you're older than twenty six, Đuli will be fine." She leaned her
head on the head rest of the chair and persistently blew away the stray
hair from covering her eyes and the pale, dark blue circles under her
eyes. She looked like she, at the same time, would rather be anywhere
but here, and like she wants to talk, but is too tired to do so. "I come
from Croatia, from Zadar. I'm still trying to get rid of the accent, but it
just won't disappear. Only the official 'štokavica' is taught in American
schools." When you looked at her curiously, she let out a soft exhale.
"Yes, I am a teacher, even if it doesn't seem so. I'm sorry, I left my
'interested face in the airport in Pula." She moved herself away from
the chair and turned it around, so she looked normal sitting on it. Well,
as normal as she could, in a big, male shirt of some punk rock band,
half-briefs and bunny slippers, which had, seemingly so, survived the
clothes change. "I teach Croatian to English men and English to Croats.
Croatian to adults and English to children. Not a bad job, but the salary
is disastrous." She looked around herself, at the shoebox sized flat.
"But, never mind. It doesn't bother me."

--
"Možeš me zvati Josipa. Ili Đuli, kako ti se prohtije." Za koju minutu
se pojavila u dnevnoj sobi - koja je bila mala, sa odjećom razbacanom
po namještaju, polupraznim vrećicama čipsa, potpuno praznih, ali
malobrojnih Jägera, i, kao kontrast, uđbenicima, ponešto Engleskih,
ponšto Hrvatskih naslovnica. Uspjela si se ugnijezditi među svim
tim stvarima, a kad je Đuli došla, rukom je maknula olovke, bilježnice
i mikrovalne večere sa stolca iz kuhinje i posjela se nasuprot tebe
po kaubojski. "Zapravo, Đuli će biti okej, Josipa me zovu samo
oni stariji od mene, ali i ako si starija od dvadeset šest, Đuli će
biti u redu." Naslonila si je glavu na naslon za glavu na stolici i
uporno puhnula odlutali pramen kose koji joj je prekrio oči i blijedo
tamno plave podočnjake. Izgledala je u isto vrijeme kao da bi
bila bilo gdje nego tu, i kao da želi pričati, ali je preumorna za
to. "Dolazim iz Hrvatske, iz Zadra. Još pokušavam maknuti
taj naglasak, ali ne ide. Samo književna štokavština se uči
u američkim školama." Kad si je upitno pogledala, lagano je
izdahnula. "Da, učiteljica sam, iako se ne čini tako. Oprosti,
ostavila sam svoje zainteresirano lice na aerodromu u Puli."
Odmaknula se od stolice i preokrenula ju, tako da je izgledala
normalno. Pa, onoliko normalno koliko je mogla u velikoj, muškoj
majci nekog punk rock benda, polu-boksericama, i zeko šlapama,
koje su, izgleda, preživjele presvlačenje. "Predajem hrvatski
Englezima i engleski Hrvatima. Hrvatski odraslima, Engleski
djeci. Nije tako loš posao, ali plaća je katastrofa." Pogledala
je okolo sebe, na stan velićine kutije šibica. "Ali neka. Ne smeta."




Don't move your lips
It's not the time or the place for that
Something inside us
Half sacred, half damned

Live life between two fears
Without a second of catching breath
And just think about the silence to come
When a soundless voice touches you

--
Ne miči usnama
Jer ovo nije ni vrijeme ni mjesto za to
Nešto je u nama
Do pola sveto, a od pola prokleto

Živi život između dva straha
Bez ijednog trena predaha
I sluti kakav će to biti muk
Kad dodirne te glas koji nema zvuk


It was hard, when I first came into this dump you call a city.
Firstly, I had to get a place to live, then a job, then friends.
I'm afraid that the latter subject is still unfounded. I haven't
found real friends, I mean. I mean, yeah, it's fun to go out with
people you know for a drink or two and what not, but I still
sometimes miss the friends I have at home, not to even talk
about my family. Bu, because this is a story about 'how Đuli
made it in America', let's talk about them. My mum and dad,
Marija and Tomislav Gundulić, they were, well, my best friends
for fifteen years or so. Then, teenager me decided parents
are not cool and I started hanging out with the 'bad' crew,
those coolers who smoke behind the school, who lifted their
hair into Mohawks, and who accepted me as one of them.
They weren't that bad, you know. Like a second family, they
helped me with the homework from the classes we skipped
to draw graffiti, watched them get their tattoos, light firecrackers,
kick down trash cans. And that period of my life was fun, until
the party-breaker showed up. Matija Horvat. His name I say with
complete disgust, because the dude's a jerk. His royal highness,
four years older than us 'kids', decided that he is the leader of
our little gang of outcasts, and immediately switched his focus
onto me, the only girl in our group. Yes, there were some kisses
I didn't agree upon, a little groping. From those experiences my
whole world of romance was spoiled. I can't even watch chick flicks
without him in my head. I'd like to say I'm free of all this love
crap, but I need somebody, to show me how to kiss when you
want to kiss, to go on dates with me, and to laugh at our jokes.
And now, is that person a boy or a girl, I haven't figured out yet.
I will notify you if I do.

--
Bilo je teško, kad sam tek stigla u ovu rupu od grada. Prvo
je trebalo nabaviti smještaj, pa posao, pa onda prijatelje.
Bojim se da te potonje još nisam našla. Ne prave, mislim.
Ma da, zabavno je otići sa znancima na pokoje piće i što ne,
ali ponekad mi nedostaju oni prijatelji koje imam doma,
a da i ne pričamo o obitelji. Ali, pošto je ovo priča o tome
'kako je Đuli uspjela u Americi', hajdemo i o tome. Moji
mama i tata, Marija i Tomislav Gundulić, oni su bili, pa,
moji najbolji prijatelji nekih petnaestak godina. A onda
sam tinejđerica ja odlučila da su roditelji bezveze i počela
se družiti s 'lošom' ekipom, onim kulerima koji su pušili iza
škole, koji su kosu podizali u irokeze i koji su me prihvatili
kao jednu od njih. Nisu ni oni bili tako loši. Kao druga obitelj,
pomagali su mi sa zadaćom sa satova tijekom kojih sam s
njima crtala grafite, gledala kako idu po tetovaže, pucaju
petarde, i nogama rušila kante za smeće. I to razdoblje
mi je bilo zabavno, dok se nije pojavio parti-brejker.
Matija Horvat. Njegovo ime izgovaram s gađenjem, zato
što je tip budala. Njegovo veličanstvo, četiri godine stariji
od nas 'klinaca', odlučio je da je on sad vođa naše male
skupine outcastova, i odmah se nakalemio na mene, jedinu
curu u grupi. Da, bilo je tu i poljubaca, na koje, naravno,
nisam pristajala, i malo hvatanja. Od tih iskustava mi se
zgadio čitav svijet romantike. Čak više ne mogu gledati
ljubavne filmove, bez da mi je on u glavi. Voljela bih kazati
da sam se izlječila svih ljubavnih tegoba, ali trebam nekog,
da mi pokaže kako je to ljubiti se da nije na silu, kako je to
ići na spojeve i smijati se nekim našim forama. E, sad, je li
to dečko ili cura, to još nisam odgonetnula. Javit ću ako shvatim.




Tonight, I dreamt of a ship on the sea
The wind, the wind broke it when it dawned
Because you, you weren't here
Where are you, I'd shivered like a child
Come to me, all the tears in this world are threatening
Because I, I've been alone for too long

--
Noćas, sanjao sam brod na moru
vjetar, vjetar ga je slomio u zoru
jer ti, nisi bila tu
gdje si, drhtao sam kao dijete
dođi, sve mi suze ovog svijeta prijete
jer ja, predugo sam sam


I'm not a needy person. I don't require a lot of maintenance.
Just a shower daily, a bath weekly, hair wash twice a week.
I don't put on too much makeup, and that which I put is rather
neutral. I don't like to stand out. I wear shirts my friends gave
me because of the moving out, pants I got in second hand shops,
and I own about five pairs of shoes, but those I have are good
quality Dr. Martens and All Stars. I know, I know, 'if I want to
find the love of my life I should dress better', but, you know what?
It doesn't pay up, buying clothes just to find love. What kind of
a stupid story is that? I'd rather spend money on quality food or
clothes I'll really use, like running bras, training pants, or,
for what I'm currently saving for, a yoga class. Since I spend my
days surrounded by mostly kids, yoga is in some ways essential.
But, life is life, and I'm aware that some people have it worse
than I do, so I won't complain. I'm healthy and relatively happy.
Isn't that enough?

--
Nisam zahtjevna osoba. Ne trebam puno održavanja. Samo
tuš jednom dnevno, kupanje jednom tjedno, pranje kose
dvaput tjedno. Ne stavljam previše šminke, a i ono što
stavljam je poprilično neutralno. Ne volim se isticati. Nosim
majce koje su mi dali prijatelji zbog selidbe, hlače koje sam
nabavila u second handovima, i posjedujem valjda petoro
pari cipela, ali one koje imam su kvalitetne marte ili starke.
Znam, znam, 'ako hoću upecati ljubav svog života trebala bih
se bolje oblačiti', ali, znate što? Ne isplati mi se trošiti novac
na robu ako je koristim samo da nađem ljubav. Koje su to
glupe priče? Rađe potrošim novac na kvalitetnu hranu, ili
na robu koju ću stvarno koristiti, kao grudnjak za trčanje,
hlače za vježbanje, ili, za što trenutačno štedim, tečaj joge.
Pošto dane provodim uglavno među djecom, joga je na neki
način neophodna. Ali, život je život, i znam da je nekim ljudima
teže nego meni, zato se neću žaliti. Zdrava sam i relativno
sretna. Zar nije to dovoljno?




Maybe it's heaven
For the last thing you do is be cheated on

--
Možda je raj
Prevara za kraj


Songs used: x x x x  x
(yes i took this opportunity to educate you about cro music)

_________________
michigan lake blue, breast cancer awareness pink, nina's purple


did u mean "my writing at 2 am"
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PostSubject: Re: Characters   Sun Feb 01, 2015 5:56 pm



x x x x
"Huh? Sorry? You're talking to me? Sorry, sorry, sorry, sh-crap. Crap.
I meant crap." The twenty-something-year-old in front of you going
through some papers on her desktop in Ignatius Parker Companies.
She seemed to be in a lot of troubles when you accidentally knocked
over another stack of paper. "Oh, no, no, not those... Damni-Rats. Sorry.
You know what, you know what, just go, I don't know, somewhere. I
have a lunch break at..." she glanced at the clock and made a grimace.
"Three hours ago. Oh well. I'll just tell my boss I'm hungry, she thinks
I'm fat anyway, it's no news for her. Don't touch anything, don't. It's
all organised." The desk was filled with papers haphazardly stacked
against the walls of the block wall office. "Actually, turn off my laptop
and put it in the bag. Yes, that over there." She jimmied out of the
block and skipped off to the actual, decent sized office, her mid-high
red heels clicking against the cheap imitation of marble. Her entire
figure dressed in red and black clashed with the white block offices
surrounding her as she 'clicked back' to you. "My boss said 'fuck off',
which means I'm fired for the day. I'll return tomorrow, shed a tear
or two and get my job back." She looked at you and frowned. "What?
I've been fired at least ten times. My boss has a boss, and all the
firing people goes through her. I've worked for IPC since I graduated
and I think that even if I didn't work they wouldn't fire me. C'mon.
I know a good place where they probably inject caffeine into their
spring rolls. I'm kidding. If I had caffeine my heart would go.. not
on. My heart would go all hummingbird and I'd die. I'm too young
too die and I'm too hyper for caffeine. Right? Right. Let's go."



x x x
"So my boss' boss is this really really gay closeted guy, thirtyish,
he wears pink shirts and polkadotted bowties, can you believe it?
His every other sentence begins with 'no homo, but...' and yeah.
Why was I telling you this story? Ah yeah, that's why I never get
fired. I'm his beard, I cover his gay up by letting him flirt with
me without me getting mad or offended or anything. Of course,
it would be much more amusing if I was gay as well, but I like
boys. Girls I draw, boys I do. No, wait. I draw boys, also." She
paused her twittering for a second. "Well just perfect. I haven't
even introduced myself, now, have I? Sorry. My name is Abrielle
Rogers, or, if you prefer, Abbey. I know I prefer Abbey. But, ya
know, whatever floats your boat. Now, where was I? Oh, okay.
Drawing. So, back when I was 16, I had this boyfriend. I'm giving
you a bit of prologue, because then was my first time drawing...
Well, my first time, as well. When I woke up I found some colouring
pencils on his nightstand and a pad. Hey, the kid was an aspiring
artist. His works seemed pretty fantastic back in the day, but now,
not so much. I mean, as an artist myself... So, I picked up the
pencils and drew, feeling really inspired. That's how my art career
started. Now I'm drawing for other people at IPC. A bit depressing,
innit? Ah, fuck it. I have a flat about five minutes from work on
foot, same with the centre of the time. I'm hardly in any position
to complain, right? So... tell me about your life?"




Now that she's back in the atmosphere
With drops of Jupiter in her hair
She acts like summer and walks like rain
Reminds me that there's time to change
Since the return from her stay on the moon
She listens like spring and she talks like June



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did u mean "my writing at 2 am"
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PostSubject: Re: Characters   Sun Feb 08, 2015 12:14 pm



x x x
You arranged a meeting in a small bar that not many people
know about, in hope of privacy. You heard a lot about the
man you're going to meet, and if any of these things are true,
mentioning the name 'Samson Neal' in a place where there's a
single gay guy or a single overly-obsessed arts student, that
same gay guys and arts students will surround you like moths,
if you assume you're a flame. But, the time of the meeting has
passed, you're on your second coffee, and he hasn't showed up.
Ten minutes pass, fifteen, and a bleached blonde head popped
up and walked over to the barman. "Excuse me, is this..." and
he proceeded to pronounce the name of the bar so wrong that
the barman shook his head. The blonde made a ridiculous pout
and began to walk out of the bar, but you jumped up and ran
after him. Once you called his name, he turned around and
flashed a grin at you. "Ah. Sorry, I've never been in this part
of the town, I'm new to the whole grandeur of NYC, haven't
made my way around yet. Sorry once again." He placed kisses
on both of your cheeks and you two sat down. He ordered latte
from the barman with a wink and his famous charming smile
which made the barman flustered and drop his sugar, and then
he focused on you. "Now, if I understood you correctly, you
don't want me to design your flat, you want an interview?"
He suspiciously raised his eyebrows, but nodded. "Okay. I must
say, that's a first." He thanked the still-dazed barman for the
latte and leaned against the bar. "How do I even start, I don't
think I've introduced myself since high school. Well, I'm Samie
Neal, I come from Chicago, I'm twenty six, and that covers the
basics, doesn't it? But I have a feeling you need more, right?"
He let out a half-laugh. "You journalists. Always digging for the
details, like foxes. Just promise you won't misquote me, because
God knows that the amount of times that has happened nearly
murdered my career." He took a sip from his latte and started talking.




You know, when you're a part of a huge family, it's kind of
expected for one to turn out like me. I mean. If you name
your child inspired by a Biblical character, he's doomed to
be a one thousand percent gay Bachelor of Interior Design.
Like, that's a rule. I have seven siblings. And I'm not even
fucking with you, seven. I'm the sixth child, meaning I'm in
the end of my mother's line of birth. Thank goodness. My
mum has a saying, goes something like 'One kid is not enough,
two kids is too much, three kids is a disaster, any more is
the fucking Armageddon'. Apologies if I swear a lot, it runs
in the family. I've been sworn to since I was a kid. My oldest
sister was fifteen when I was born, and I even think the first
word which was uttered to me was a swear. But anyway. How
did I get into design? Well, it's another family story, get that.
I was, what, five, and I decided that the wall of our living room
was a bit too cream, and my twin sisters and two brothers,
you know, the ones younger than my fifteen year old sister,
they decided to give me water colours and shit happened.
I was punished for weeks after that, but a passion was discovered.
Since then, I've been obsessed with colour and feng shui and
bullshit, you know, I've already talked about my techniques
everywhere I've given an interview. But yeah. I'm just a kid
who is trying to make it big in the world. I've been successful
so far, and I'm satisfied. The only front which is losing is the
one about the love and relationships. See, I have many friends,
but none of them want to do the do with me. I'm not saying I
couldn't get someone if I wanted, but I want that someone
to find me. I'm as cheesy as the next hipster indie song that
is going to come out. But anyway. I'm a busy man. I'll
leave to your coffee, and one more thing, don't flirt with the
barman. He's probably as straight as me. See you around, love!




I'm so fancy
You already know
I'm in the fast lane
From L.A. to Tokyo
I'm so fancy
Can't you taste this gold?
Remember my name
'Bout to blow

_________________
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did u mean "my writing at 2 am"
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