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Why are you creeping me?

I'm checking out your post history... 0.17021276595745 17.0% [ 8 ]
I followed you from the 'join me in the forums' link... 0.14893617021277 14.9% [ 7 ]
I'm checking out yo' pseudos... 0.19148936170213 19.1% [ 9 ]
I JUST LOVE YOU VERY VERY MUCH!!! <3 0.48936170212766 48.9% [ 23 ]
Total Votes:[ 47 ]
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                                      Name;
                                      Marcel Justus LeRoux - I'm very French

                                      Nickname;
                                      Marc, and I'd prefer if you'd call me that.

                                      Age;
                                      Seventeen

                                      Date of Birth;
                                      March 3rd

                                      Gender;
                                      Male

                                      Orientation;
                                      Anyone who can handle me

                                      Wand;
                                      My wand is a 10.5" Rigid Hornbeam with Phoenix Tail feather. The wandmaker seemed more than a little surprised when I was able to shoot out a stream of fireworks from the wand and muttered under his breath to my parents about strong-willed and determination. It works for me. I never stop trying to learn until the spell is down and in my arsenal of knowledge.

                                      Dominant Personality Trait;
                                      Confident

                                      School;
                                      Beauxbatons, Seventh year

                                      Nationality;
                                      French

                                      Ethnicity;
                                      Black, French, and Arab

                                      Languages;
                                      French (primary), English (secondary), and enough Arabic to get me into trouble.

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                                      Appearance;
                                      I'm no Veela or half-Veela because that s**t is annoying, but I think I got a healthy mix of my parent's features. My best feature you will probably find is my skin - it is an interesting shade of brown and has an undertone that keeps it looking clean and fantastic, always a darker brown in the Mediterannean sun. However, being in the cold and relentlessly cloudy UK is doing its number and making me lighter than I would like to be. My hair is kept at about two to two and half inches long so that it doesn't become curly, and is a dark brown that is rather thick and pretty soft. I have my mother's nose, which is a bit straight but isn't as flat as my father's, while still retaining a bit of the wideness. My eyes have a very strong Nordic fold, which means that there is extra skin on the outside of the eye that makes it so that when my eyes are open, you seen no eyelid, and they slant down. As opposed to Asians, who have slanted eyes because of the epicanthic fold.

                                      My lips also slope downwards and are very full and almost never smiling. I'm not too tall and not too short at five-ten, which works well for my lean build that I try to keep in good shape, at 140 lbs. My sense of style is muggle because of how I was raised, and I have a strong preference for an urban Mediterranean city look as opposed to robes. However it seems that Scotland is not kind to my wardrobe and I spend life in a constant state of my many jackets with my hands in my pocket. The way I stand is often not the most approachable. I walk and move deliberately, with no uncertainty or hesitance. Why should I?
                                      [x] [x] [x] [x] [x]

                                      History;
                                      I was born to a Mr. Justus LeRoux and a Miss Renee Amari, who was soon to become Mrs. Justus LeRoux. My father is a businessman in the Muggle world, doing international business. That was how he met my mother, a representative of an architect company that was based in both Marseille and Morocco. They met, they really liked each other, and then you go through all of that kind of romantic French romancing part with the slight glitch in the plans that was myself. My father is a French Black, his family having lived in France since the late 1800s. My mother was also from France, however she was half-French and half-Arabic, which led to the multiracial abnormality that is myself. Which also means that yes, I am indeed a muggleborn. It is not necessarily appreciated at Beauxbatons, but that is another point entirely.

                                      I grew up in Marseille, the French Portal to the World. I grew up in a diverse and global city. My father, being a businessman, was no-nonsense and taught me to appreciate efficiency while my mother brought me up to only expect the best out of myself and the people around me. Exactness was a treasured quality. Eyes for details, expecting intelligence and not tolerating the stupidity that accompanied so many. There was never anything insipid or unneeded in my life, and that was the way our household was run. I went to primary school when I was of age and was well aware of the no-nonsense policy that my parents exacted. But it made sense, why wouldn't it? There was no use for dead weight. This appeared in my high marks from an early age and apparent perception and ability to grasp concepts and scenarios. I thank my mother for this (Arab minds read math and the abstracts like poetry).

                                      I noticed little things that made me different. It started when I was eight. Not only could I seemingly grasp the most abstract of concepts - I could make them come to life. It was the day that I was making a model of the solar system, complete with nine planets and the sun, and I was imagining how some of the planets rotate in oppossite directions. I was concentrating on imagining it when my model started to float in the air, the makeshift planets spinning in their appropriate directions. Neverless, I was surprised, but I don't think I was that surprised, or else I could have freaked out. Instead with a blink the solar system fell to the floor and I tried to see what else I could do with my mind and a bit of concentration.

                                      My life continued to be well-off. We lived in a classy apartment in the middle of the city. I was used to the people and the accessibility of everything. It was all fine and dandy until I was eleven and I received some rather interesting news. I was indeed, a wizard. Once again, it was no surprise as I read the flourishing French words. My parents didn't believe me when I showed them at first, of course. For such a straight-laced urbanized family, this wasn't quite up their alley. But I easily convinced them by showing my parents the tricks that I had taught myself - my favorite one being the levitation of objects - it was the simplest thing to do and was startling to them. I asked if they had ever done anything like that before but both of them shook their heads. I was unique, and it was something I had in my family that no one else could do.

                                      At Beauxbatons I met a few hundred other unique people just like me - wizards and witches. Even though I had never even heard the term 'magic' until then my eleven year old self was determined to be the best. I studied hard and used my background of efficiency and abstraction to my advantage. Because of that I showed my brilliance for magic, since it is after all, an abstract concept that most people could not even wrap their minds around. At Beauxbatons I encountered the social hierarchy of the school. The females were the ones who were prized, especially those of Veela blood. The veelas annoyed me - you grow tired of consistently looking like a dumbass whenever they walk by but the effect does wear off and for someone like me who doesn't have time to be their little male b***h, you learn resistance. But let's just point out quickly here that boys can carry Veela blood as well.

                                      Underneath the veelas are the regular French people. And then the non-French females and then everybody else, being the non-French males. I paid no heed to this because I had no concern with petty step ladders created by people with no higher aim than being the seventh year with the biggest group of friends. I was setting out to make a name for myself, to become the best Wizard I could. Sometimes it meant I offended people or brushed them off, but I'm doing them good. It's something they'll just have to learn and deal with when they get out into the working world - something my father stressed a great deal. There were greater goals and goods to be achieved. So when the opportunity came up to partake in the Triwizard Tournament, of course I took it.

                                      Personality;

                                      My confidence is my key - Things do not usually faze me or upset me. They instead just roll off of my shoulder. Being confident is the key to being respected and being successful. However, in my confidence I am often seen as haughty. This is more than likely a correct assumption, I do not deal with those who are perpetrators of stupidity or ignorance in any kind and I am highly impatient with them. I could be spending my time doing something constructive instead of dealing with them. Efficiency is key because time is money and valuable. I don't like to waste time at all, even if I do see myself as a rather careful planner to do anything to get the end that is in my sight or my will.

                                      To be successful, I am not afraid to employ my natural intelligence. I am naturally slightly devious and cunning and yes, that sometimes means being underhanded. I wasn't born ahead of the game in the Wizard world and I don't have magical charms like a siren to make people give me everything they want. Instead I use my knowledge to manipulate a situation the way that I want it in the most expedient way possible. You know what they say anyways - all those men who listened to Siren Songs only ended up smashing into the rocks. And what good did it do them? You have dead sailors and now there's no one for the girls to tease. It's bunch of bullshit lets be honest. The only people who benefit are the shipmakers who have a constant supply and demand for the ships that are always being crashed, so investing in them would be a good idea. I'm goodlooking and talented but I'm not just riding on that. I work hard for everything that I get.

                                      If you haven't caught on by now, you probably shouldn't talk to me, but I'll go ahead and tell you - I'm driven. I may be one of the most ambitious people you've met. I don't have money to pay my way through and I have a disdain for those who let their lives slide by and never try to move on. I'm always moving forward, always aiming for something more. Sure this means that the successes I do have under my belt expand my ego but that is just deserved. I am self-assured and know who I am and what I want and the different paths to get there. Even if there isn't a path I will cut one down. I am serious and take things seriously, and my sense of humor is sarcastic and more importantly, dry. I am not amused by silly antics and asinine shenanigans, which are strangely prevalent throughout Beauxbatons and maddeningly more so at Hogwarts.

                                      Likes;
                                      Success
                                      Efficiency
                                      Music (contemporary)
                                      Rich French deserts
                                      Warm weather
                                      Getting my way
                                      Business deals
                                      Architecture
                                      Wizard's Chess
                                      Logical Magics

                                      Dislikes;
                                      Veelas
                                      Trust-fund Babies
                                      Complaining
                                      Dead Weight
                                      Cold
                                      Absent-minded people
                                      Quidditch
                                      Rain
                                      England
                                      Laziness
                                      Ignorance
                                      Stupidity

                                      Username;
                                      walikeheke

                                      Song;
                                      Remember the Name - Fort Minor

                                      Colors;
                                      #009ACD (deep sky blue 3)
                                      #00BFFF (deep sky blue 1)
                                      #3CB371 (medium sea green)
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xxxxxxxxx
User Image________Blue Jay - walikeheke

                        I met him when I was seventeen. They'd moved me to yet another camp. I was
                        partnered with him. I'd assumed that it was going to be the same as before: rape.
                        But it was different. And without my control, I bonded with him. Maybe it was the
                        way he was silent like me or maybe it was the way that he reached for my hand
                        rather than anything else. Two of the six children I've borne are his. I used the time
                        after we finished breeding to plot my final escape with him. When the time came
                        to leave, he didn't follow. I think I felt all my disassociation fall back down around
                        my shoulders. But nearly a year later he was there. No one knows me wordlessly
                        like he does. It seemed efficient and fitting that I'd make someone who knew
                        what I was saying without having to use words as my second. He possesses the
                        proper skills that a second ought to require. He is always behind and slightly to the
                        side of me. I admit only to myself that I rely on him to keep me connected to my
                        humanity. "Whatever our souls are made of, ours are the same."


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User Image________Owl - Tnau

                        It was Jai's idea to bring Isabelle
                        into our organization and she has proved a valuable member. Her extensive knowledge of
                        computers and all the important components of that is a great help. Our surveillance
                        has never been better. She's better than anyone else we've recruited. She knows how
                        to keep a secret, and that's more important than all of her other skills. Not only that, but
                        she has become someone I trust to be the smile that I can't give our members. I like her,
                        and I see her as a companion of sorts, but she's not below my mental barrier. After all,
                        she's only been here for three years and, as petty as it may sound, she doesn't know
                        what Jai or I went through. Somehow, she's still a virgin. I don't feel like she'll ever fully
                        comprehend the mess that's in my head, I don't know that I want her to either.


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User Image________
Hunter - Nicholai Makali Russo

                        I know this man, though I wish
                        it weren't so. He is the leader of a treacherous and cowardly band of brigands. Though
                        he is a highly skilled man with many talents, I do not respect him in any way. He
                        was a breeder at one point before the government saw him as something more "worthy"
                        and turned him into a dog instead. He makes his living by hunting down fertile humans
                        and sending them back to hell on earth. He's a lowly man that I'd like to see fall from
                        the military's graces. I'd like to see him back in the camps and he is one soul that I
                        would not risk my life or liberty for.


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User Image________
Black Widow - c i t y of FREAKS

                        The Black Widow is indeed
                        poisonous and vile. She is of the same caliber as Mkahi, talented but a cowardly and
                        selfish person who would rather put her own freedom before the lives of innocent men,
                        women and most importantly, children. Her face was not the one that I expected
                        to see on the computer screen while researching the group who is trying to take us
                        down. At one point, we were in the same facility and her room was next to mine in the
                        hospital wing of the camp while we were both with child. She occasionally stopped by
                        to ask after the weather, generally I would respond with some sort of nod. But now
                        she's just another dog with no soul. Elect sources say that she enjoys torturing the
                        information out of her victims.


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x

User Image________
Codename - BurpingBubblegum

                          TEXTGOESHERE,BETCH


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    [align=center][img]http://i851.photobucket.com/albums/ab76/foodiehair/Retri/relationship.jpg[/img][/align]

    [color=white]xxxxxxxxx[/color][align=left][size=10][imgleft]http://i851.photobucket.com/albums/ab76/foodiehair/Retri/jairo.jpg[/imgleft][color=white]________[/color]Blue Jay - walikeheke[/size][/align]
    [list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][size=10]I met him when I was seventeen. They'd moved me to yet another camp. I was
    partnered with him. I'd assumed that it was going to be the same as before: rape.
    But it was different. And without my control, I bonded with him. Maybe it was the
    way he was silent like me or maybe it was the way that he reached for my hand
    rather than anything else. Two of the six children I've borne are his. I used the time
    after we finished breeding to plot my final escape with him. When the time came
    to leave, he didn't follow. I think I felt all my disassociation fall back down around
    my shoulders. But nearly a year later he was there. No one knows me wordlessly
    like he does. It seemed efficient and fitting that I'd make someone who knew
    what I was saying without having to use words as my second. He possesses the
    proper skills that a second ought to require. He is always behind and slightly to the
    side of me. I admit only to myself that I rely on him to keep me connected to my
    humanity. "Whatever our souls are made of, ours are the same."[/size][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list]

    [color=white]x
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    [/color]
    [align=left][size=10][imgleft]http://i851.photobucket.com/albums/ab76/foodiehair/Retri/isa.jpg[/imgleft][color=white]________[/color]Owl - Tnau[/size][/align]
    [list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][size=10] It was Jai's idea to bring Isabelle
    into our organization and she has proved a valuable member. Her extensive knowledge of
    computers and all the important components of that is a great help. Our surveillance
    has never been better. She's better than anyone else we've recruited. She knows how
    to keep a secret, and that's more important than all of her other skills. Not only that, but
    she has become someone I trust to be the smile that I can't give our members. I like her,
    and I see her as a companion of sorts, but she's not below my mental barrier. After all,
    she's only been here for three years and, as petty as it may sound, she doesn't know
    what Jai or I went through. Somehow, she's still a virgin. I don't feel like she'll ever fully
    comprehend the mess that's in my head, I don't know that I want her to either.[/size][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list]

    [color=white]x
    x
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    [/color]
    [size=10][imgleft]http://i851.photobucket.com/albums/ab76/foodiehair/Retri/mkhai.jpg[/imgleft][color=white]________[/color][align=left]Hunter - Nicholai Makali Russo[/align][/size]
    [list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][size=10]I know this man, though I wish
    it weren't so. He is the leader of a treacherous and cowardly band of brigands. Though
    he is a highly skilled man with many talents, I do [i]not[/i] respect him in any way. He
    was a breeder at one point before the government saw him as something more "worthy"
    and turned him into a dog instead. He makes his living by hunting down fertile humans
    and sending them back to hell on earth. He's a lowly man that I'd like to see fall from
    the military's graces. I'd like to see him back in the camps and he is one soul that I
    would not risk my life or liberty for.[/size][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list]

    [color=white]x
    x
    x
    x
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    x
    x
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    [/color]
    [size=10][imgleft]http://i851.photobucket.com/albums/ab76/foodiehair/Retri/emmy.jpg[/imgleft][color=white]________[/color][align=left]Black Widow - c i t y of FREAKS[/align][/size]
    [list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][size=10]The Black Widow is indeed
    poisonous and vile. She is of the same caliber as Mkahi, talented but a cowardly and
    selfish person who would rather put her own freedom before the lives of innocent men,
    women and most importantly, [i]children[/i]. Her face was not the one that I expected
    to see on the computer screen while researching the group who is trying to take us
    down. At one point, we were in the same facility and her room was next to mine in the
    hospital wing of the camp while we were both with child. She occasionally stopped by
    to ask after the weather, generally I would respond with some sort of nod. But now
    she's just another dog with no soul. Elect sources say that she enjoys torturing the
    information out of her victims.[/size][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list]

    [color=white]x
    x
    x
    x
    x
    x
    x
    [/color]
    [size=10][imgleft]http://i851.photobucket.com/albums/ab76/foodiehair/Retri/ameilia.jpg[/imgleft][color=white]________[/color][align=left]Codename - BurpingBubblegum[/align][/size]
    [list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][size=10]TEXTGOESHERE,BETCH[/size][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list]

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                                  At four in the evening, Jai was high up in a tree, covered in dirt and old clothes that were worn and gray, a bandanna around his forehead to keep the sweat and grime from dripping down into his large brown eyes. He had on fingerless leather gloves that were torn in places to keep the palms of his hands from getting splinters or from getting cut. The Brazilian's machete was sheathed and he was utterly still as he watched the going-ons around him. His legs were covered by worn-out, dirty jeans that were tucked into work boots that he'd managed to theive off of someone. He didn't know who, but he wasn't bothered with that. He was good at that - gathering supplies. Which was why he was out on his Recon mission to do just that. Right now he was watching a small community, a few miles away from where the local headquarters for The Elect were. He watched people going about their business, skillfully staying out of view. He watched their habits.

                                  Then he saw what he wanted - medical equipment in a supply truck.

                                  Staying in the blind spot of the people milling about in the common areas that he observed to be heavily populated, he quickly made his way to the truck, staying in the shadows and the back alleys. He was behind a dumpster when the workers opened the latch and then started carrying the cases into the store. He then made his move. With measured and experienced precision he ran over to the truck and opened his large bag, looking and grabbing necessities and shoving them in the bag. He counted the seconds he had left in his head. 40... 39... 38... 37... He methodically kept adding as much as he could carry. 15... 14... He knew they'd be coming so he tightened his bag and made sure no one was still watching, and put the bag on, his shoulders straining against the heavy weight. But he ran back behind the dumpster before the workers came back out and started to sneak away from the town and back into the woods where the base was located.

                                  Jai walked for two miles under the heavy weight, back stooped but with no complaint on his features, just sweat and heavy breathing. He occasionally stopped so he could rest his back but he moved quickly. When he was within Elect territory he manipulated his mouth and let a sharp, shrill whistle that sounded like a bird call. There was no response and all Jai could do was hope that S.I.C. picked it up. He continued to move stealthily and since he wasn't immediately shot at by Isa's high-tech computer, he was able to relax a bit knowing he got through the first line of defense. He kept his machete sheathed and walked carefully, not wanting to leave any obvious tracks and trails in the area, staying light and quick on his feet. He walked up to what appeared to be nothing more than a large mound of dirt. If a person didn't know it was there, they would never have suspected that by carefully undoing vines and punching in a combination that changed on a weekly schedule and on a need-to-know basis, there was a small doorway that lead to the inside of the Headquarters.

                                  When he slid in and landed on his feet, he found himself in the bare gray facility that constituted as The Elect HQ. It was not furnished or warm or very comfortable either. People stopped and nodded at him. Not the salute that Reed garnered but a sign of respect nonetheless. And they often moved out of his way. Instead of going to the showers, which he wanted to do, he went straight to the briefing room. Jai took off his backpack and started to unload on the table. He had managed to take penecillin, bandages, items to clean and heal wounds, and an assortment of pills and equipment to make stitches and other things. It was a good haul, he'd had a large bag with him. He was covered in dirt and grime and sore. But he stood with his hands behind his back as the chief 'medical' person came and examined his equipment. "This is a really good haul." Jai didn't respond. He just looked at her evenly with his dark brown eyes until the woman awkwardly collected the materials and left.

                                  Jai left the room to go and wash off before the briefing with Reed and Isa that night. They had a limited supply of water that was redirected discreetly from the main line that went to the village and was covered up by Isa's genius computer system and her hacking capabilities. It still meant that showers were close to two minutes, five if it was a good day. It seemed like a two minute day. Secretly, he liked showers. It was a luxury that he couldn't afford. The Elect had nothing compared to those that worked with the government and army. But Jai preferred to think of them as something as the People's Liberation Army, if anything else. They rarely killed people, they even avoided it when they could. But still, propoganda was propoganda. The government and military tried to push the image out to the public of The Elect as 'terrorists'. But everyone knew better - they were fighting for human rights. That was the thought that kept him going.

                                  Jai went and took a shower, quickly rubbing off the dirt on his body and in his hair, failing to get it all off before the automatic timer on the water ended. Letting out a sigh he realized he needed to sleep before the meeting. He wanted to see Reed but knew that she was examining the facilities and making sure everything was in working order. The tanned man went into the closet-sized room with a cot that was his own. Most people doubled in a room that was larger than the one he had - having private quarters was a benefit he shared with Reed, even if most of the time they were in the same room. Their rooms were across the hall but he was in his. He made sure his weapons were next to him before he took off his dirty and torn clothes and laid down sideways to settle into a restless sleep, wasting away a few hours.

                                  When he woke up it was close to the late night debriefing. He got dressed again and put on a worn-out gray-blue pair of jeans and a wife beater. He put on a belt with a holder for his machete, and a holster for his hand gun. He put on his usual pair of faded and worn fingerless gloves and then headed out to meet them when he finished tying his shoes. Jai shook out his shoulders, his face blank and mild as he walked to the room where he was meeting. He saw Reed in there by herself and he walked in wordlessly. He reached his hand out to touch hers briefly, his fingertips brushing the hand of her skin before dropping it to his side and looking at the plans sketched out before her. He stood back after he looked at them, standing to her right and about a step back from her. It was his usual place to stand, never wanting to draw too much attention to himself. She was the leader, the strength of the entire organization. Isa could be the human one - the one who smiled occasionally. She could connect to the people easier than Jai could and like Reed, he appreciated that about her. Jai was simply the one who helped to uphold the foundation.

                                  ((ooc: I'll make a fancier graphic for Jai this weekend! Godmodding of Reed done with permission of Foodie))
User Image

It's not a crime, it's not a sin




                                  тнεч cαℓℓ мε «
                                      » Jaime, sometimes Jai


                                  ι вεℓιεvε ι'м «
                                      » Twenty-two


                                  мч вιятн∂αч ιs «
                                      » July 4th


                                  ι'м α «
                                      » Pretty female


                                  ι нαvεη'т тнσυgнт αвσυт ιт, вυт ι ℓιкε «
                                      » I don't mind flirting with the girls but it's the guys I go for.


                                  тнεч αяε ƒαмιℓч «
                                      »Troubled on Tuesdays are the people I work for.


                                  тнε ωαч ι αяε «
                                      » I know perfectly well what people call me sometimes. Tramp, slut, whore. Gold digger seems to be a popular one. And I guess they could be justified in saying that. Doesn't mean they're right. If they're going to apply any word, mercenary would probably be the best. I know what I want and I'll do what I have to in order to get there. I'm just driven - you don't get it. Where I come form people don't make it out, and I'm halfway there and I'll do anything to keep from going back. It's almost a primal fear of mine. I don't want to be dead end, stuck in a job working for some of the wealthiest people in the seafood industry while I get only a small percentage of it. Miniscule. I don't want to be like my brother and already have two kids that he can't afford to take care of so he does odd-end jobs. That's just not me.

                                      If you take the time and decency to actually get to know me, I think you'll be surprised by what you find. I'm fairly sedate even if I am serious. I'm not big on clubbing and partying. I'd rather just sit around and talk or watch movies. I don't smile or laugh a lot but I think that's just from always being the one at home working hard, cooking and cleaning and now that work ethic carried with me. I always pull my weight when someone is depending on me. Whether it's coming up with a design, a new look or style, or paying rent. I take what I do seriously and take care of business first, and go out later. I only really started going out as a necessity, not as something I enjoy all the time. It wears me out. But bills have to be paid and money to be earned or supplemented. I'm truly and unequivocally happy when I see people enjoying or appreciating my creations. I do tend to keep people at a bit of a distance - there aren't many people I'm close to. It's hard, and more often than not just leads to misunderstandings.

                                      Depending on the day and what I'm doing, I may or may not look like a designer. I know how to manipulate people, I know how to get what I want and I use my appearance to do just that if I have to. I'm mixed with black, creole, and french. It worked out well for me. I have light brown skin, a narrow nose and full lips with long dark hair and brown eyes. I try to maintain my looks because without a nice face you can't get anywhere where fashion is concerned. I'm five-seven and I wear heels a lot. I'm on the smaller side but I think I have pretty nice curves although my legs are probably my best feature. My ears are pierced with regular ones, and then an industrial. I have Laissez le bon temps rouler tattoed on my left shoulder blade. If I have a choice as to how I'm dressing, it's usually ripped jeans, a t-shirt, and a bandanna with my hair down. But of course, you'll usually find me wearing a dress that I made with heels, especially if it's nighttime. My talents are a product that need to be sold.


                                  тнε нιsтσяч «
                                      » I come from Shithole, Louisiana.

                                      Shithole is full of the working poor, of which my family was a part of. It didn't matter if we had amazing gumbo or catfish and crawfish and funky-a** names for tobasco sauce. I never knew there was anything more than being piss poor. ********. I lived with an older brother and my father, who worked his a** off on a daily basis, seven days a week, so that we could have at least a few things in life. He was a fisherman in the bayou and I never set a foot outside of shithole until I was twelve years old and I was on the field trip for the sixth grade class as their last year in elementary school. And we headed to N'Awlins, the heart of the Big Easy. Laissez le bon temps rouler. The Crescent City. The City that Care Forgot. The little black / creole / french girl that I was jumped for joy at the chance to finally see the Louisiana that everyone else outside of Louisiana saw - not the one that I lived in.

                                      It was there that I fell in love with fashion. The colors, the life, the way people carried themselves. Let the good times roll. I was an addict who had found her perfect high. The moment I went home I started to take old clothes of both mine and my brothers and bought a book or two to see how I could start putting them together. There were a lot of pricked fingers at first but by thirteen I could make t-shirts with ease and was moving on to skirts and dresses and pants. By the time I was fifteen, I was making money by making dresses for homecoming, prom, and moving on to being a stylist. Girls paid good money for me to do hair, makeup, and make dresses. I loved it. But at seventeen, I graduated from high school and went to a fashion school in the city that fueled the initial fire - New Orleans.

                                      I lived on Bourbon streets for the lights and the booze and the blues. I made best friends with drag queens and made their outfits and did all of their outlandish makeup and hair. I was letting the good times roll. I made t-shirts for local bands and I was making good money. I even opened a little stand to sell stuff that I made to tourists. I was the pretty girl on the corner with the charming accent that dissapeared the moment I got back into my small, closet-sized apartment. When I graduated from the two-year school I spent part of the summer saying goodbye to Louisiana. Then I packed up my bags at twenty years old and headed right up to the Empire State - New York. The city where you could make it our break it, just as easily. Because everyone knew New York could either make you cold or bitter or just as easily reward you with all your dreams like a slot machine in Vegas.

                                      Still piss-poor, living off the money I'd had saved up over the years in New Orleans, I knew I needed a way to supplement my income, which was not going well at the moment. I used my connections on Bourbon street to design for some low-key drag shows and do makeup for awhile, but it wasn't enough. I thought apartments in Louisiana were expensive, I nearly died when I got to New York. As a result, I started couch hopping. I learned how to dress myself to the best of my appearance and with the right amount of makeup and the properly hoisted hemline, I could get guys to offer to let me stay over at their place. Sometimes I slept with them, most of the time I didn't. I'd be gone the next day after they paid for my dinner and then I'd be looking for another place to crash. I didn't always have someplace to stay and if that happened I would get on the Subway and sleep on it, riding back and forth. I was used to roughing it. Clothes were never an issue for me - I could buy the ugliest dress at a thrift store and make it the cutest club outfit. I relied on my looks to get me into places.

                                      I was starting to do a little bit better when I ran into Schaefer. We were in a music store and I wasn't dressed anything special because everyone needs a break every once in awhile. I was just in a pair of ripped jeans, flip-flops, and a black band t-shirt that I made. We happened to be browsing the same section and she saw my shirt and it turns out it was her favorite band. We started talking and when she found out I was a designer and stylist we exchanged numbers and said she wanted to see some of my stuff. I stayed in contact and before I knew it, we were roommates since New York was freaking expensive and it helped that we could split rent. I was still having a rough time of it even after I got hired because it wasn't as if the band paid much, it was just steady. So I put my looks to the test and used them. If guys could pay for everything but rent, then that left my paychecks for that. It's not the best way to live but don't judge me. Everyone has to get by in life. When you work your a** off to get to a place, it's not that bad to let someone else do a goddamned thing.


                                  ℓιкεs «
                                      » Making clothes; I have this long table that I use to make everything, and I love it. I can sit down and rip up a bunch of clothes and then in a few hours have something completely new. I recycle lots of clothes and then buy cheap stuff at thrift stores and make something that could pass off as urban chic.
                                      » Doing makeup; Even though I don't always wear it myself, I absolutely love helping people become their more 'perfected' selves. I used to secretly love doing makeup for proms and such because it's like they see this pretty side of themselves they never knew was there.
                                      » Sweet tea rum; My alcoholic bevarage of choice. Coupled with the occasional smoke, it's perfect. It burns but at the same time it tastes delicious.
                                      » Time to relax; It doesn't seem like I have many people that I'm close to here because I keep everyone at a distance but I do like to just sit around and relax with them.
                                      » Getting out of my head; This is why I make clothes. When I'm in the 'zone' I'm not thinking about anything. All the s**t is gone, all there is is the material in front of me and a goal in mind.
                                      » Accomplishments; Whenever I achieve something, there's this immense feeling of pride and satisfaction. I like it.
                                      » People appreciating what I make; It's like being an artist seeing someone buy their painting and hang it up in their house. When people wear what I make or enjoy their makeup, it's like a part of me is in their lives.
                                      » Having a bed; You learn to appreciate one when you go without one for years.
                                      » Vegetables and fruit; Especially the sweet kind, like pineapples. Pineapples are delicious. And the spicy vegetables in New Orleans reminds me of home. Hand over some collared greens and I'm set.
                                      » Blues and Jazz; No junk, no soul.
                                      » The Subway; If I get too stressed I'll get on the Subway and ride it everywhere, usually without telling anyone where I'm going. I watch the people and the faces blurring by and it's a chance to be anonymous.


                                  ∂ιℓιкεs «
                                      » Failure; I work way too hard to be okay with failing. It makes me feel like I'm doing a disservice to myself.
                                      » Not finishing my job; Not meeting a deadline or not providing customer satisfaction is unacceptable. If I'm going to take the time to do something it better damn well be my best.
                                      » Parties every night; I like going out with people I like but I don't like the wild crazy party scene every day. I'd rather kick it with some drinks and a game. Really. Even when I lived in New Orleans, I quickly wore myself out on Bourbon street, and I realized even though I could go out a few days a week, I can't do it all the time.
                                      » Being alienated in New York City; It's a very cold, lonely place. It's easy to feel lost.
                                      » Causing tension, even if it's often the case; Despite what Schaefer might think, it's not my favorite thing to do. I always avoided married guys (most of the time) even though they had the most money and it's why I guess I'm not always comfortable hanging out with the band. On one point I don't want to piss off Schaefer and on the other hand I really like hanging out with Loon and then there's the added fact I really don't want to make him feel like he has to be with me and not his bandmates. I'm not going to pull a Yoko Ono.
                                      » Screamo; I said no junk, no soul. But this is the wrong kind of junk.
                                      » Guys that are too touchy; It makes me twitchy and jumpy, even though sometimes I'll just deal.
                                      » Feeling useless; Inactivity, having no goal or routine to adhere to. It drives me up a wall.
                                      » Starbucks in general; Their coffee and hot chocolate aren't even that good.
                                      » Having pictures taken of me; I really dislike it. I'm not comfortable in front of a camera, I'd rather if they took pictures of other people in clothes I made. Or I can take pictures of other people (like Loon).
                                      » Discussing myself; I just don't want to, okay? I'm not that interesting and maybe I just don't want people to know.
                                      » People touching my stuff without asking; It's a sensitive subject for me. I will freak out, it's not okay. So don't do it.


                                  α вιя∂ sαι∂ «
                                      » I send a good portion of the money I make to my dad.
                                      And I'm afraid of falling for Loon because I'm afraid of being exactly like my mom.


                                  α ωιsε мαη тσℓ∂ мε «

                                      »Wicked World - Laura Jansen
                                          You say you like candy
                                          Well, stick with me, I got some sugar up my sleeve
                                          You like money,
                                          place your bets on me, these odds are going crazy

                                          And don't be afraid of the Big Bad Wolf,
                                          he's just a sheep underneath those teeth
                                          And don't be afraid of the Wicked Witch
                                          She ain't so bad, she ain't no b***h

                                          Woo ooo it's a wicked, wicked world
                                          Yea-a-a-ah, Woo ooo ooo ooo, it's a wicked world

                                          La-la-la-ladies, if you feel me holler
                                          Fellas, show us all a dollar

                                          Little Riding Hood is such a flirt
                                          She got Miss Muffet all up her skirt
                                          Hansel and Gretel never made it home
                                          They got some cooking to do of their own

                                          Woo ooo it's a wicked, wicked world
                                          Yea-a-a-ah, Woo ooo ooo ooo, it's a wicked world

                                          Once I tried to be so good
                                          All sweet and spice like good girls should
                                          But I don't see why I try, why do I try?
                                          When every time I climb that hill, my Jack is somewhere chasing Jill

                                          1, 2, 1, 2, 3, 4

                                          Woo ooo it's a wicked, wicked world
                                          Yea-a-a-ah, Woo ooo ooo ooo, it's a wicked world

                                          Uh Uh Rupunzel, Rupunzel, let down your golden hair
                                          Giddy up, giddy up on a big white horse, even if your prince ain't there
                                          Oh, I long for ever after like every princess should
                                          But there's always another chapter, and the apple sure tastes good!

                                          Woo ooo it's a wicked, wicked world
                                          Yea-a-a-ah, Woo ooo ooo ooo, it's a wicked world
                                          Yeaaa-aa-aah, Woo ooo ooo, it's a wicked world
                                          Yea-a-a-ah, Woo ooo ooo ooo, it's a wicked world


                                  If Your Mama Knew - Jim Bianco
                                      What you do it's not a crime, it's not a sin... But if your Mama knew


                                  Empire State of Mind - Jay-Z feat. Alicia Keys
                                      In New York concrete jungle where dreams are made of / there's nothing you can't do / Now you're in New York / These streets will make you feel brand new


                                  Goodness Gracious - Jim Bianco
                                      Come on in, girl you sure looking purty / the sheets are clean but the mind is dirty / Straight from my lips Goodness Gracious
                                      tab Come on in, cut a man some slack I didn't drag you here to tickle your back...


                                  So What - Pink
                                      And now that we're done / I'm gonna show you tonight / I'm alright, I'm just fine / And you're a tool


                                  Gone Daddy Gone - Gnarls Barkley
                                      Beautiful girl, lovely dress / high school smiles oh yes / beautiful girl, lovely dress / where she is now I can only guess
                                      tab I can tell by the way that you switch and walk
                                      tab And I can see by the way that you baby talk / I can tell by the way you treat your man / I could love you baby till it's a cryin -
                                      tab Cause you're gone, Daddy gone, your love is gone

                                  Dani California - Red Hot Chili Peppers
                                      She never knew that there was anything more than poor / What in the world doe syour company take me for?
                                      tab She's a runner, rebel and a stunner / On her merry way sayin 'baby what you gonna' / Lookin down the barrel of a hot metal .45 / Just another way to survive
                                      tab tab She's a lover, baby and a fighter / Shoulda seen her comin when it got a little brighter



                              вεнιиd тнε scεиεs «
                              walikeheke
Severely in progress. Go'way L O M N and Foodie :]


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                                        So the terror-f** went and Julian tried to figure that s**t out. It was like he was doing something you'd find on both a T-pain music video as well as that foreign film channel he sometimes flicked through when he was high and stuck on the couch trying to find a Skinemax movie. Brown kid can rap. Wow. The part that wasn't English sounded retarded to him. It was fast and it sounded like someone was dying or tripping on LSD. Then Jess went up and he didn't really listen to her because he was looking at her body instead. He just smiled when she came back and considered slapping her a** but she was the only thing keeping Miles from attempting to knock him out so he stopped as if some other voice told him not to.

                                        Then it was that blonde angry girl. Who the hell is she? I haven't slept with her. He tried to figure out where he knew her. Then he realized she had been dating that one guy that had been in his year and she liked to get high. She was into bigger s**t than he was, mostly because he couldn't afford any of the better highs but then again, he liked to be good looking. At least with pills he could stay in shape, and he liked having sex more than he liked getting high. Then it was this weird guy with weird hair and an even weirder name and his dance moves were weird. [******** weird, man. The weird guy left and Julian was aware that the floor was moving when he heard a voice. "How about next we'll have Hugh G. Rection..." due to the trailing and lack of the normal cheerfulness in the voice, it seemed that Bristow hadn't realized what it said until it was said aloud. Julian only chuckled and grinned, leaning into Jess. "How did he know?"

                                        Julian hopped onto the stage and stood up, grinning and adjusting his sunglasses and his wig. He went up to the mike. "Sup? I'm Hugh. But Jess already knows that. Along with most of the cheerleaders and female student council members." The small filter that he normally had in public places was completely eradicated in the presence of influence. He waved at Bristow. "So I thought I'd put on a show for all the the homos and fairies that are here today." He used his middle finger to push up his glasses. The person who had taken his CD pushed play and with his customary a*****e confidence, Julian said "Let's get this s**t started." Julian grinned. He knew he could sing, he had a damn good. He could go fairly high and had a lot to back it up. It landed many an unsuspecting tourist in his bed. He was unabashedly a horrible person.

                                        He didn't know if it was just his voice or his cigarette streak awhile ago (not that it made much of a difference in his mind), but he had a naturally thick singing voice until he went into a higher register. A rather obsessed girl had said something along the lines of "Buttery gravel and sex." Not that Julian knew anything about buttery gravel but he was okay with the sex. But he would be singing higher seeing as he was performing a song by a female. The music started and he jumped in with an arrogance that he had perfected years ago. He was always happy to cause trouble and had a large cocky grin on his face. He closed his eyes and cheesed it up for the intro to the Album version. "Ho-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh caught in a bad romance. Ho-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, caught in a bad romance."

                                        He got into the groove of the song, grin on his face, eyes looking around. "Rah-rah-ah-ah-ah, Roma, Roma-ma, Gaga ooh-la-la. Want your bad romance. Rah-rah-ah-ah-ah, Roma, Roma-ma, Gaga ooh-la-la. Want your bad romance." He sang in the same register as Lady Gaga. Miles wasn't the only good singer. There wasn't anything disguised in Julian's aggressive in-your-face dislike of taking the audition seriously. It was as close to mooning Bristow as he could think without actually doing it (which would get him suspended. Again). "I want your ugly, I want your disease. I went your everything as long as it's free." He cocked his head and smirked on the last line. "I want your love, love, love, love, I want your love." He took the mike off of the stand and walked around. He could put on a show. "I want your drama, the touch of your hand. I want your leather studded kiss in the scene, I want your love, love, love, I want your love." He spoke with deliberate campiness. "You know that I want you. And you know that I need you. I want a bad, bad romance." He walked to the side that Jess was sitting on and he sang to Jess. More for the sake of embarassing her than anything else.

                                        "I want your love and I want your revenge, you and me could write a bad romance. I want your love and all your lover's revenge. You and me could write a bad romance. Woah-oah-oah-oah-oah-oah-oah-oah-oah, oah-oah-oah. Caught in a bad romance. Woah-oah-oah-oah-oah-oah-oah-oah-oah, oah-oah-oah. Caught in a bad romance." He nodded. "Rah-rah-ah-ah-ah, Roma, Roma-ma, Gaga ooh-la-la. Want your bad romance. Rah-rah-ah-ah-ah, Roma, Roma-ma, Gaga ooh-la-la. Want your bad romance." He grooved along, enjoying making a scene. "I want your horror, I want your design. 'Cause you're a criminal as long as you're mine. I want your love, love, love, I want your love." Not that he really wanted love. But he sympathized with Lady Gaga's desire for just wanting. He wanted sex and never promised that he'd be nice about it. "I want your psycho, your vertical stick. Want you in my room when your baby is sick. I want your love, love, love, I want your love." He went and sat on the apron of the stage, moving around with the music. "You know that I want you. And you know that I need you. I want a bad, bad romance." He sant out for the chorus, showing his vocal capabilities.

                                        "I want your love and I want your revenge. You and me could write a bad romance. I want your love and all your lover's revenge. You and me could write a bad romance. I want your love and all your lover's revenge you and me could write a bad romance. Woah-oah-oah-oah-oah-oah-oah-oah. Caught in a bad romance. Woah-oah-oah-oah-oah-oah-oah-oah-oah-oh-oh-oh Caught in a bad romance." He was surprisingly enjoying himself. He usually didn't sing without the intent of picking up a girl. "Rah-rah-ah-ah-ah, Roma, Roma-ma, Gaga ooh-la-la. Want your bad romance. Rah-rah-ah-ah-ah, Roma, Roma-ma, Gaga ooh-la-la. Want your bad romance." He hammed it up and played his part well of the cocky b*****d. He didn't really see himself as anything but. He dangled his legs on the stage and motioned his hand towards Daveigh. "Walk, walk fashion baby work it, move that b***h crazy. Walk, walk fashion baby work it, move that b***h crazy. Walk, walk fashion baby work it, move that b***h crazy. Work it, I'm a free b***h baby." He tossed his hands up before rolling backwards and landing on his knees.

                                        "I want your love and I want your revenge, I want your love, I don't wanna be friends." He stood up and then looked at Fee in the audience and gave her a meaningful look behind his sunglasses, the right side of his lips turned up. He butchered the french part but he couldn't really care, he heard people butchering Spanish on a daily basis in class. "Je veux ton amour et je veux ton revenge. Je veux ton amour. I don't want to be friends." He tossed his free hand up as if he was signifying that he could care less. He really didn't. Julian shook his head as he sang, his leg moving up and down. "I don't wanna be friends. I don't wanna be friends. I don't want to be friends. Want your bad romance." He excercised his full range as he put both hands on the mike and sang at the top of his ability. "Want your bad romance!" On that note he turned off the mike and left it on the stage, hopping down. He didn't stop to talk to anybody but instead just let the music keep playing and grabbed his bag where he was sitting and walked out, taking the time to use his backpack to slam Miles in the face.
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                                          Jai was hungry, thirsty, and sore. But despite his destitute situation, he realized that he was lucky to simply get a glass of water and he paid no heed to his discomforts. People in the BPH camps had it even worse than him, that was the thought that kept him always moving forward. He closed his eyes and imagined the facility in 3D in his mind, visualizing it. Jai was good at visualizing, he had a mind that grasped the abstract and concepts fairly well. Using his usual communication with Reed he pointed, giving her meaningful glances every once in awhile before Isa came in. He stepped back to what he felt was his right and respectful place. He wasn't the person who was supposed to execute orders, not without permission from Reed, even if it didn't seem that she ever objected. He knew very well his place as second-in-command, not the Leader.

                                          "Sorry I'm late, I've been busy all day, but I did manage to get some of what you asked for Reed." No Salute, and she was late. Jai was not impressed but he straightened up, letting Reed say her piece - it wasn't his place to tell her. And thinking about it further, he found there wasn't a strong need to mention it. He looked at Reed, a world of communication transpiring between them in a single glance. He wanted to make sure in his silent and somber way that it was alright to ask questions. He opened his mouth to speak, his voice quiet but startling in it's clarity, rather than a lot of force behind it like a military commander barking orders. "I have some questions, Owl." He didn't like to use real names. It was evidence, it was power for other people. And very few people knew his name anyways - only the people in the room. It was a safety issue.

                                          He was BlueJay. The only other person who knew was Usher, because of his connection to Isa before they had joined The Elect. It wasn't something he approved - the less people who knew names, the better. In the event of capture, it meant that there was less information to give out. "What are the doors, windows, and pipes of the facility made of. Also, the proximity of this room," He pointed to one, "In relation to this one." Jai preferred not to speak when it could be avoided. Words contained a world of power and when there was a chance that what they said was being overheard, nonverbal communication was essential. It was what made his bond with Reed inseparable. He stood back to wait for Isa's explanation, clasping his hands behind his back.

                                          He felt himself wanting to disassociate again - it was like a poison, a habit. Stepping outside of himself to reduce feeling or experience. It felt more like a dream or a movie that way, not something that was real life. But he glanced at Reed again and felt himself pulled back in.
                      Go away, stalkers. In progress.


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                      Julian had to go to work after his audition and he did so, the effect of the alcohol and drugs slowly starting to wear off thanks to the sudden jolt of pain into sobriety. He got into his car and flicked on the radio, grinning as heard the song that was playing. He started to sing along as he blinked and drived, a bit too fast and not exactly straight. "One-two-three-four uno-dos-tre-cuatro. Rumba, Si, ella quiere su Rumba, como? Rumba, Si, ella quiere si Rumba, Como? Si e' verdad que tu ere guapa, yo te voy a poner gozar, tu tienes la boca grande, dale ponte a jugar, como -" He had a healthy appreciation for Pitbull, who was also Cuban and a general badass. Julian saw that the lightening bolt sticker was still on his face and he peeled it off.

                      "Tick to the tock, on my way to the top uh, Pit got it locked from the brews to the locker, RIP uh, BIG and Pac uh, that he's not, but damn he's hot," He continued to rap along, his wig on the passenger side and the audition all but forgotten. He pulled up to his work in the South of the Dowtown area, near the Hispanic district of Poinciana Park. He very nearly got into a few accidents but brushed it off, parking and wiping off the rest of any crusty blood that had accumulated around his nose. When he walked in one of his coworkers, Carlos, shouted at him. "What up ese? You get into a beef with someone?" "Just some stupidass gringo from my school." "You show him nobody messes with the Cubans?" "Nawh, man, he wasn't worth my time."

                      Julian worked on the cars and when the pills completely wore out he grabbed the tequila to keep himself at a healthy buzz as he worked in the back. He didn't care - he could work cars in his sleep if he wanted to. They were simple. He'd had quite a bit more by the time he decided to leave. It was only eight or so but he'd already striped several cars and he wanted to go veg out and play video games if he could. He had gotten into his car and was driving when he saw the one thing in the world that was always a buzz-killer - flashing blue and red lights. "Fuuuuuuck," he said, as he pulled over, stopping the car and putting his head on the wheel. For most people it meant a ticket and/or jail or stripping of a lisence.

                      For a certain Julian Martinez, an illegal alien with a history of trouble with... everything, there could be worse consequences. He laid his head back and waited for the police officer to walk over, who immediately shone a flashlight in his eyes, making Julian squint his eyes. "Sir have you been drinking?" Julian didn't know what to say. He was underage, he didn't officially 'own' the car that he was driving per se, and he was Cuban. He shrugged. "Liscence and registration?" "I just got this from the shop, I don't have paperwork yet." "Step out of the car. Keep your hands where I can see them." Julian sighed and stepped out, keeping his hands held up. Even he wasn't stupid enough to mess with the cops. "Put one foot in front of the other and walk in a line."

                      Ten minutes later, Julian was in the backseat of the police car wondering at how his bad luck was. The officer was young and Hispanic, and there was nothing else worse for him. People tended to be hardest on their own race. He was marveling at his own stupidity and bad luck when the police officer in question started to talk to him. "You're Martinez?" Julian nodded. "Do you have a sister? Rosa?" Julian nodded again. "I think she's dating my brother. Nice girl." "Yeah." Julian was surly as he was pulled into the local precint and started to have the paperwork filled out. He didn't need this DUI. He was answering questions for the police officer, who was named Lopez. "We don't have you in the system at all. You're Julian Martinez? What's your Social Security number." Julian closed his eyes and shook his head before hanging his head and rubbing his temple. He had a headache. There was a pause.

                      "Do you have a birth certificate." Julian shook his head again and there was more silence and Julian looked up to see Officer Lopez looking at him. "How old are you?" "Eighteen." "When did you come over here?" Julian's lips downturned. He wasn't sure what was being held against him. But he didn't have a choice. "1994." "Rough year. Where are you from?" "Havana." "Where are your parents?" Julian shrugged and the Officer put down the paperwork and after looking deep in thought. When he talked again it was in Spanish. "Listen, you get your one ******** phone call, have them come pick you up, and I'll pretend this never happened. But I better not catch you driving drunk again or I will throw your ******** a** in jail so fast you'll think Castro was behind it." Julian was surprised as he was let out and lead to a phone.

                      He dialed the first number that came to his mind. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ri - The line picked up. "Hey, Fee? Are you busy? I need a ride from 16th and Palm in Downtown."

                      - - -


                      Sure she had been a little nervous about leaving Julian by himself after the Glee auditions, but he was being a jack a** and irritable and there was no way she was prepared to put up with that at that point in time. Instead she had just left him in the fine hands of his buddies, and had went to go grab her stuff from the sound booth. From there she had a made a rather hasty exit of the high school and to her electric car. After carelessly tossing her bags into the back of her car, she started her rather reluctant trip back to her house. Her father was bound to be more than a little tense due to the gala that night, and there was no way she wanted to get in the way of that anger. Julian was scary when he was angry, but even the Cuban couldn't compare to her father when push came to shove.

                      The rest of the afternoon consisted of locking herself up in her room to finish some homework, avoiding her father at all costs, and later getting ready for her father's gala. Truthfully, she didn't put that much effort into trying to doll herself up for the evening. There was no point. Her reasoning was the less makeup than hopefully the less guys that would ask her to dance. It would be interesting to see if her hypothesis was wrong or right. Personally, she was hoping for the latter.

                      Several hours later, she was unfortunately slow dancing with the mayor's son. The boy was a year or two younger than she and he was going through his awkward stage. He kept stepping on her feet, and even though she wasn't the best dancer herself, she at least had a sense of rhythm unlike him. More than a couple of times Fee tried to make an escape but every time she went to excuse herself, the boy would try starting up another conversation and she felt guilty about just flat out leaving him. However, luckily for her, her phone started to vibrate against her ankle, as she had tied it to the strap of her shoe, to the complete and utter disapproval of her father. "Sorry, I have to grab this." She quickly apologized. The dark haired girl quickly pulled her hands away from his neck and rushed off the dance floor. As she stumbled over towards the exit of the hotel ballroom they were in, she bent over and picked up the phone, bringing it to her ear as she straightened her back. "Hello?" Fee greeted.

                      The voice that answered was the last one that she would have expected to hear. Though, at that point in time, whoever managed to save her from the gala she was in major debt to. He was asking if she could pick him up, and that was a good excuse as any to bail out on her father's charity dinner. "Yeah, sure, I'll be there in a few minutes. I'm already down town, I'm pretty much just around the block." Without needing to ask for any reasons, Fee hung up her cell phone and quickly made her escape, not even bothering to grab her coat. As she tripped out through the revolving door, a lopsided grin tugged at the edges of her lips as she saw her own personal Cinderella coach waiting nearby.

                      No more than ten minutes later, the Junior was driving down the city street, pushing her electric car to go faster than it was probably safe to. She was scanning the neighborhood, not quite knowing where to expect to be picking up Julian. However, as soon as her eyes landed on the police precinct she immediately knew that she was in the right place. 'Dear God, I hope he didn't murder Miles for punching him earlier.' Her thoughts echoed as a horrified expression came to her features. In more than a hurry than ever, the brunette stomped on her gas peddle and peeled into the first available parking space she found.

                      Without as so much as a thought towards her attire, she stormed into the station and walked up to the desk. "I'm here for Julian Martinez." "Just one minute." Fee nodded her head as the sergeant walked towards the back of the building. She raised a hand and tucked a stray strand of hair back behind her ear. From somewhere behind her, she could hear some men wolf whistling and calling out for her and asking why she wasn't there to pick them up. She didn't so much as to look back at them, figuring it would just be best to ignore them and keep her gaze forward

                      - - -


                      Julian was in a holding cell sitting on the cold bench and ignoring the other people in there with him. He'd completely sobered up and was irritable but realizing how much he'd lucked out. The crackhead next to him was twitching a lot and it made Julian's skin crawl. In the holding he saw the females across, one who was obviously a hooker and was making eyes at him. He tried to keep his gaze on the floor. He heard a faint and familiar voice say his name and he could see her if he strained to look out. The crackhead next to him looked to see what the fuss was about and let out a low and quiet whistle. Julian turned to the guy and without a second thought, clocked him in the jaw. "OW wotcha do that for, you ******** spick?" Julian spit on the guy's feet and was close to going into an all-out fight when the cell door opened and Lopez dragged him out. "Cut it out, Martinez."

                      Julian was roughly let go while he didn't and appreciate being manhandled he looked down and muttered. "Okay." He owed a lot to him, as well as to his sister, and Fee. He kept his hands in the pockets of his jeans that were still bloodstained from earlier. The Officer continued in Spanish. "I won't tell your sister, and don't ******** this up. Try to get your s**t together." Julian stood in front of Fee and looked everywhere except at her. There was a guy standing behind her checking her out overtly and Julian glared daggers at him before hissing in Spanish at the Hispanic man. "Tomen sus ojos de ella, ustedes salvadoreño sucio. Rasgaré apagado su d**k." Take your eyes off her, you dirty Salvadorian. I'll rip off your d**k. Julian was greeted with a sharp smack on the head by Lopez. "Sorry."

                      He was checked out and walked out with his arm around Fee's shoulder, taking it out once they were off and putting his hands in his pocket. He got into her small Electric Car. Of course she wanted an explanation. "Yeah. I got taken in for a DUI." He ignored it. He didn't really want to think about it too much. Lopez had been more than kind - but he'd been forced to think about Cuba and that was one part of himself Julian kept ruthlessly shoved down. "Thanks." He hated to admit to anything but there was no one else he could have called. His foster parents were out at some political or charity event or something and he would never have called his sister. His buddies at the garage were unreliable. "You can drop me off at my house. It's like, a few miles from the school." It was only then that he saw Fee's outfit. "So what? Were you like, on a date or something?"

                      - - -


                      Fee blinked uncertainly as the sound of a fist meeting someone's face from somewhere down the hall. Several other sounds that sounded like the beginning of a brawl quickly followed and suddenly her shoulders tensed, the realization that this was her first time in a police station dawning upon her. Truthfully, she hoped this would also be her last time. The brunette strained her neck to try and see where the officer had went, and just managed to catch sight of the officer pulling Julian out of cell, the latter looking like he was ready to pounce on someone. A small sigh escaped her lips and she ran a hand through her hair as the officer led Julian towards where she stood. As the officer spoke to her Cuban turned delinquent, she took the time to look him over to see if he were alright. However, as soon as her eyes landed on his hands, her eyes widened drastically wondering if her earlier assumption has been correct about Julian seeking revenge on Miles. Though, for the sake of her sanity, she tried to find some reasons as to how this could not be so. 'They wouldn't have let him out if he was taken in for assault... Could they have?'

                      She raised her gaze back up to Julian and caught the way he was looking behind her. The Junior looked over her shoulder at the other man, just as Julian hissed something in Spanish. Though returned her gaze right back to the officer as he smacked her friend up on the side of the head. Just like it had been at the gala, she felt completely lost as to what was going on around her. A small innocent grin came to her smile as she stood on her toes and delivered her own blow to the side of Julian's head. "Sorry, I felt left out." The brunette admitted whilst giving a sheepish grin.

                      Luckily, it didn't take long to check Julian out of the precinct. Before she knew it they were walking out through the doors, strangely with his arm tossed over her shoulders. On any normal day, Fee would have just pushed his arm off but this was no normal day. Not only was there a tense feeling behind the gesture, but there was also something protective about it and there was no way she was going to get rid of that protection inside of a police station. As soon as they stepped out into the night air, he quickly removed his arm before they stepped into the car. Though, there was no way she was going to keep the silence when she still didn't even have any idea as to how he got himself down here. "Okay, seriously, what did you do?" Surprisingly enough he told her without needing to say anymore, and at the reply her shoulders relaxed slightly. "Thank god, I was worried." The Junior breathed, not caring whether or not he heard.

                      She pulled out of the parking lot and started driving down the street, not quite expecting to have a full in depth conversation with the other on the way to their destination but when he offered up a thank you, it was the last thing she would have expected. "Don't mention." Felicity replied casually. She leaned her elbow on the window ledge and cradled her face in her hand as she kept her eyes on the road. Her thoughts couldn't help but drift back to the thought of her father back at the gala, no doubt wondering where she had gone off to and no doubt earning her a lecture when they got home. The brunette inwardly swore at the thought. At the mention of dropping Julian off back at his home an idea started to form in her mind, but before she could say anything he cut her off asking about whether she had been on a date. She looked down at herself briefly before turning her gaze back to the track ahead of them, all the while laughing. "I was at a political charity event when you called me. Thankfully you saved me from a slow dance with the mayor's son." Running a hand through her hair, she managed to get up the nerve to say, "I'm gonna sleep at your house tonight." Fee paused for a moment before adding, "If that's alright, of course. My dad's going to kill me when he realizes I left the gala."

                      - - -


                      "What? You want to stay at my place?" He looked at her skeptically, already prepared to say '******** no'. But before he could, she said something about her father. Julian had only seen the man in passing before when he was leaving Fee's room after one of their usual 'ventures' but he'd never had the misfortune of actually being in conversation with the man. Apparently he was a big deal though. "I don't know." He considered asking her for a sexual favor in return but then he realized it was probably too early to push it, especially since he'd just gotten picked up from the precint. "Fine. My foster parents are at some stupid event thing where they spend lots of money for people they don't care about." Or at least, that's what it sounded like to him. They were big on looking like the perfect family. Minus him.

                      She directed her to the house in short and tense responses, rather hoping she had nothing to say about anything. It was very much a representation of Karen and Jake Peterson's House, not someplace he'd live. It had everything - a green lawn that he had to maintain as part of his chores (which he thought was racist because the neighbors always thought he was the help) when he was bothered to do them, and a perfect white picket fence and two stories of plastic and false pretenses. When she parked he realized that he didn't have his keys because they were being mailed to him later. [********] Lopez wanted to make sure he didn't drive. He waited, Fee besides him, until a tired-looking sixteen year old answered the door. It was Mikey, Julian's foster brother. He was shirtless and Julian pushed past the blonde-haired kid.

                      "Who's that?" "None of your business." But the kid wouldn't shut up. "Where's your car?" "None of your ******** business." "No I think it is my business." Julian ignored him. He really didn't care for his foster family, even if there were times he could pretend it was okay. Instead he just grabbed Fee to show her the upstairs where everything was. "This is my room." He showed her into a small space. It had a window on the cieling and a small one on the side and it didnt have many decorations. A small nightstand where he kept his pornos in one drawer and his letters from Rosa in the other. He didn't have any posters and he dumped his backpack on the floor by his pile of clothes. "The bathroom's down the hall. I'm ******** tired so... whatever. I'll talk to you in the morning."

                      He took off his jeans, not really caring since it wasn't anything she hadn't seen before. "You left some of your clothes in my car once - they're over there." he pointed to a corner of the room where a pair of jeans and a tank top were piled. Taking off his shirt so he was just in his boxers he fell onto the bed, staying to the side of it so that Fee had room to sleep there if she wanted. As long as I don't fall off. This bed is so ******** small. It'd be fine if we were doing something else but whatever. I shouldn't push it if I wanna get some tomorrow. It wasn't long before the angry Hispanic boy was fast asleep, snoring.
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                                        Rosa had been having a good time. It was a big mixer at Isha and Jess' place with lots of people from the arts community as well as the people she in general cared about, her friends. She was dressed in one of her favorite types of outfits, a little black dress with stilettos and her hair in an updo. People were holding wine glasses and she marveled at the general class that two of her closer friends seemed to have, handling the situation with ease and looking perfectly at home. She was there with Michael and Miles was there with Jackie. She had been enjoying the night and was talking to their group, listening as the rather newlywed couple relayed some story about a TV interview.

                                        She was laughing as Isha described Tina Ngyuen, a fellow anchor at MSNBC that totally had it for him so he frequently tried to dissuade her by having Jess come around. She noticed Michael come and stood next to her as if waiting. She reached up to give him a kiss on the cheek affectionately, her rather complicated boyfriend but the man she really did care for. He pulled back slightly as she reached for the kiss and a little put off, she went ahead and stood back regularly, avoiding looking at him or anyone else in her moment of embarassment. She brushed her hair back behind her ear and smiled brightly. "I'm glad you joined us." He didn't respond to her comment but instead turned to her and said "Let's leave."

                                        Rosa put on a fake pout. "Aww, but I'm having fun." She grabbed his hand to swing it and he looked at her with a total lack of amusement. "We're leaving." She fought to hide the embarassment as her friends offered to give her a ride back but Michael gave them a firm "No." She became upset when he accented it with a grab to her a**. By that point she was embarassed enough to just go along with it. "It's fine, really. I guess I'm a bit tired anyways." She smiled and went to hug Jess goodnight and then walk out, Michael behind her. She was silent the ride back, arms crossed and legs crossed, trying desperately to hang on to the good mood that she'd been in before.

                                        When they got back to their apartment Rosa took off her trench coat and discarded it on a chair in their room before falling onto the bed and shaking off her shoes. She angrily undid the hair that had taken a decent amount of time to twist up so that it piled around her head. She was closing her eyes and focusing on breathing in and out evenly, keeping her lip from trembling when she felt weight next to her and a hand on her shoulder. "Oh come on, Rose. You're not upset are you?" She didn't answer and she felt a kiss on her cheek. "Why are you upset?" "Because those are my friends." "You can still hang out with them later." He didn't get it and she wasn't going to spend time arguing with him because it never worked anyways.

                                        "Rose..." She felt his hand on her thigh and slipping up her dress and she adjusted to brush it off. "Come on." "I don't want to." He went to kiss her even though she was anything but in the mood and his hand trespassed anyways. "Michael, I really don't want to." He still refused to stop and her eyes shifted to the side as he kept going. It was better to just go along with it, it would be over and done with soon enough. There was no use arguing with him when he was in this kind of mood. He had all these quirks and always asked her to say stuff. She would oblige him, because some guys just needed that self-esteem boost. But when he was done and rolled off she felt a bit dirty. Now her dress was all dirty and it was dry-clean only. Damn. She had been hoping to wear it in a few days to a community outreach concert.

                                        Rosa took it off and tossed it into a corner, making her way to the bathroom. Michael had fallen asleep already and she fought the tears as she stripped off her clothes and put the water on as hot as it would go. She looked at herself in the mirror and with a quick expression she turned off the lights, deciding to shower in the dark instead. She hadn't been able to look in Isha, Jess, Jackie, or Miles' faces. She felt like a mess as she washed herself and realized she also still had to call Julian. No doubt he would be hearing things from her friends but she didn't want him to get involved - she was a big girl now. And he had his own problems, he was opening up his garage soon and didn't need anyone to spend their valuable time worrying. She was working things out - Michael did care about her but every relationship had its kinks and problems.

                                        But still she'd been just so embarassed and she hated that. She'd always been confident and didn't mind when people looked at her because she was a performer, an extrovert, a general spazz and lover of life. She'd never been so aware of her flaws until she met Michael. It hadn't been that way at first, of course. He'd been sweet and gave her flowers but she supposed she just did things that annoyed him and at least he didn't let it build up too much, although sometimes he did and when it would get tense Rosa would almost want to do something to aggravate him just to get the rough spot over with. The Cuban girl winced a bit as she shifted her legs in the dark warmth of the shower. He'd been rough. She hated when he got rough.

                                        She had finished washing and instead of stepping out she decided to shut off the showerhead and fill up the bathtub, sinking in the hot water curled up, shutting out the world around her.
                                    Julian routinely liked to skip his Spanish class as long as he was there to take the tests - he was only taking it for the credit and as long as they didn't focus too much on the jacked-up Mexican Spanish inflection on everything, he would be fine. Even then, he could understand it perfectly fine. And he had better things to do during that hour, like sleep. He was currently out by the football field, laying down on the fresh cut grass. He was just being lazy and overall avoiding anything so constructive as thinking when he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. "The ********] He had no idea who'd be calling him at this point in time. He reached to grab it and saw the rather happy face of his sister, a certain Rosa Martinez looking at him.

                                    He picked up the phone. "Hola. Sup?" "Oh my gosh! Julian! I can't believe you didn't tell me this is so cool I can't wait I'm going to go to all of your performances, finally, I can go see something of yours instead of you coming to see me all the time which is great but at the same time - " He blinked, assaulted by the very happy ramblings of his supposedly sixteen-year-old sister. "What are you talking about?" "Glee! Why didn't you tell me that you auditioned and got in? I totally would have listened to you practice your audition, I heard it was hysterical and that you were actually good and I've always known you had a good voice and everything but now you're actually putting it to work and - " He cut her off a second time, unable to help but smile at her babbling. "Uh. I'm not joining. How did you find out?"

                                    "What? Oh! Jess told me." Julian sat up quickly and then swore as the blood rushed to his head. "No ******** way." "Yes ******** way." "Don't talk like that." "Hypocrite." "I know. But anyways, nawh, I'm not joining that s**t." He wanted to hit himself on the head as he heard the pleading tone in her voice. "What?! Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease you have to. Come on. I want to go and see you perform and do all that awesome stuff and I'll get to see Jess too and you know how much I love her and hang on, why aren't you in class?" Julian took a moment to sort out what she said in his head. "Wait, why aren't you in class?" "I asked first!" "I was born first so there." She muttered darkly in Spanish.

                                    "I took the day off to practice for my recital on Saturday, which you're going to, right?" "Yeah. Just make sure you text me the directions 'n stuff." "Yeah yeah, okay. Anyways, so you're doing this glee thing? That's so badass. You were always so much of a better singer than I was, I guess that's why I have an instrument. It sings for me." "You're not bad..." "Just shut up and stop changing the topic. I think you should do this." "I don't want to." "Just try it out. Please?" He let out a sigh. He'd really gotten himself into a mess. Mikey was going to pay for it when he got home. "No promises. I'll try." He pulled the phone away from his ear as she squealed.

                                    They talked a bit more about her recital and how she was doing. "How's that boyfriend of yours? He's a Lopez, right?" "Yeah. Santiago? He's good. I mean, sort of good. One of the linemen at your school took him down really hard in the last match and his leg broke pretty badly but he's getting better. Why do you ask? You're not going to talk to him while cleaning out a handgun again are you?" "No. Just wondering." After that his sister had to leave to go back into the practice room and he figured he should go to lunch. He didn't want to deal with all the people that would come out onto the field and try to look cool by sitting perfectly poised with their lunches. It was pretty hard to look badass with a carton of milk.

                                    After walking off campus to get food even though he technically didn't have those privledges, he went to his classes and slept through the rest of them. He'd been working a lot of night shifts to get the good money that stripping cars afforded. People paid a lot of money to get rid of the evidence of something so simple as a robbery or even just a vengeful ex.
                                  Isaac Alejandro Miguel Chavez, known to his friends and family as simply 'Chavez' was twenty-five years old and had an unusual line of work. Despite being a graduate of one of the most prestigious Ivy League schools, Columbia, with a degree in Engineering, he only made a modest amount of money because instead of applying his civil engineering training to corporate, he discovered a passion for humanitarian work when he first went abroad his sophomore year and since then, has never looked back. The brown-skinned man was tall for any person of Mexican descent, at five-ten, and had slightly unusual features that he oftentimes didn't pay too much heed to since he was usually working in some of the most extreme environments in the world.

                                  Chavez was currently in a heated debate with one of the sponsors of the organization he worked for, Engineers for Sustainable World. The sponsor was a top-notch businessman and a close personal friend. "Look, you worry too much," the Spanish man said, trying to assuage his friend, Connor, who had his arms crossed and was looking severe. "You're telling me I worry too much? You just spent three weeks in a hospital in the Congo because a parasite was eating your brain and they had to fix it with poison." "Look, thousands of people get sleeping sickness every year -" "I'm not going to keep giving you money to go and kill yourself. What about last year's little run-in with the Janjawid in Darfur? Or that mudslide in the Andes? This has gone too far, Chavez. You need to stay in the States for at least a year or I'm cutting my endorsement."
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                                  ------- JASMINE's i n f o r m a t i o n
                                  --------------------------


                                                    Lola Dosanjh

                                                    There's not much you can do with Lola, so that's good enough for me.

                                                    Eighten, going on Nineteen in August.

                                                    Definitely female

                                                    I like the guys, not gonna lie.

                                                    Santa Clara University, with a major in Business and Entrepreneurship and Innovation

                                                    sienna





                                  ------------ JASMINE's h i s t o r y
                                  --------------------------


                                                    My family is absolutely insane and I absolutely love it.

                                                    My father is an anchorman for MSNBC and a general media mogul as well as a dancer for the Indian Classical Dance Theatre, Isha Dosanjh. My mother is a choreographer and dancer, Jessica Claire Dosanjh, originally Ryans. So I'm a little halfie, althogh I seem to have gotten most of my father's looks. I'm a lot lighter than him though. They met in high school in Palm Beach, Florida, and he was the nerd and she was the cheerleader. Funny how that works out. So anyways, I was born and raised in New York with my family that includes about four Uncles and three Aunts either by marriage or blood and then eight cousins. My family is extremely successful. Like, they've-been-featured-in-Newsweek-before-I-was-born successful. It's a bit insane growing up around them, and then I have my parent's friends who have been just like my own Aunties and Uncles even though they're more or less white or Hispanic. I have two older brothers, Dev being the elder and Ajay in the middle. But I got distracted talking about my family - they're a huge part of me.

                                                    I went to private school in Manhattan, since as an anchorman for a top-25 newstation and a choreographer, my parents could afford it for us. I never really realized what our financial situation was because my parents never spoiled us and we always had to earn what we got. It was an eclectic household and I was basically told I could do anything I wanted to achieve in life provided it didn't involve murder or world domination. It was awesome. Being the youngest with two older brothers, I ran around with them a lot between dance lessons and schoolwork. In high school I started to find my niche as a stage manager in the theatre department, which thrilled my parents. Although I think secretly they would have been thrilled with pretty much anything given that we have scientists, soccer players, and CEOs in the fam. My Uncle Pavan, who works for IBM, taught me the ropes of business management and I decided I wanted to help run a theatre company or something.

                                                    So I was a bit of a backstage person, making sure things ran smoothly and putting out small fires everywhere. I hung out with the guys, a lot of Ajay's friends. I skateboarded and played video games, did my schoolwork, and then joined my family at the temple for prayers and dancing for religious events. Not much in the way of relationships, even though occasionally one of Ajay's friends would come onto me. Truth be told, I haven't even been kissed yet... but back to temple! Singing and dancing had been a part of my life for... forever. One of my 'Uncles' (one of my father's best friends) is a choir teacher. But still, when I got accepted to sunny Santa Clara where some of my extended family was originally from, I opted for the Business major. My family didn't even mind that most of them had gone to Ivy League schools and that Santa Clara wasn't quite there. My Dad had talked about how when he went to Columbia University (my mom went to Juilliard), he spent summers in New York instead of going home to Florida and got a job to earn some money. So I decided to do that too.

                                                    What would be better for me, a former theatre stagehand, than a stagehand in the largest theatre in California - Disneyland? I applied for the job and showcased my knowledge of how the technology worked and I thought I had it totally down, when they totally blindsided me and asked if I could sing and dance. I thought it was just because of the fact that Disney people have a spring in their steps. So I showed them the mix of classical and contemporary my mom had taught me and the Indian classical and that my father taught me. And I had a decent voice thanks to my Uncle Miles, and before I knew it, I was no longer a stage hand candidate but I had landed the role of Jasmine! I'm sure racial profiling had absolutely nothing to do with it but you know what, money is money. My brothers would probably go ahead and try to kill me with derision but whatever, I stayed on because I don't have to walk as much and it's a bit fun to sing and dance although the songs can be so cheesy it reminds me of a South Indian bollywood movie from the 80s.




                                  ------------JASMINE's a p p e a l
                                  --------------------------


                                                    When you have a family as large as mine, communication becomes a necessity. So that's to say, I know how to speak and carry myself confidently and that confidence doesn't really waver. I'm more or less a happy person although I have most of my Dad's personality, which can be a bit dry and sarcastic even though at the same time both of us can spring into a dance. I can be a bit Miss Independent because I was taught that even though I can always go to my family for help and support, I have to be able to take care of myself, I don't want to be one of those people with a silver spoon in their mouths who can't do a damn thing. That being said - I'm intelligent. It'd be hard not to be, not only am I East Indian, but my family is just insane. My Dad got a 2380 on the SAT. Unfortunately I didn't score quite that high but it's nothing to be ashamed about. I could have gone Ivy League if I wanted to. But I have a creative mind that can analyze situations and conceptualize. That's what's awesome about being a stage manager. You just learn how to deal with this stuff.



                                  ------------JASMINE's f l a w
                                  --------------------------


                                                    Oh crap. Okay, so I know I'm Hindu and my immediate family more or less adheres to dharma but I reeeeally like hamburgers. I'm pretty sure my Dad knows, so I try to only eat them what, maybe once a quarter? Other than my insult to my religion, I suppose you could say I'm fairly prideful. I have this habit of turning on this voice that talks down to people. Kind of like the way you talk to a dog that peed on the rug or something and now you're stuck-up. I was unaware of this until my brothers pointed it out. Other than my relative distaste for ignorance or stupidity I have this thing about gloating. I can't let it die, if I beat my Uncles or brothers or cousins at video games I usually accompany it with some sort of dance move and song that's made up on the spot. I'm a bit sassy, and even though I'd never disrespect my family or my elders, sometimes I can't help but make a sarcastic and slightly brutal remark to someone of a lower intelligence level. Two older brothers! I'm telling you, that's the cause of all this. I'm not entirely ladylike but if you want to know a secret, it's hard not to believe in some sort of love with my crazy-a** family. Gay Uncles and my own blissful parents (despite their occasional arguments about nothing at all), it's there. Not that I expect it much for myself,



                                  walikeheke
[align=right][size=8][color=dimgray]It is our destiny[/color][/size]
[img]http://i227.photobucket.com/albums/dd102/vla101/devpatel_picnik.jpg[/img][/align]

[align=center][size=14][b][color=purple]How did Jamal Malik win 20 million rupees?[/color][/b][/size]
[color=dimgray][size=10][i]a) he's lucky b) he cheated c) he's a genius[/i][/size][/color]
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[list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][list][size=20]❝[/size][size=10][color=purple]TEXT[/color][/size] [size=20]❞[/size] [/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list]

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[color=dimgray][size=14][b]D - IT IS WRITTEN[/b][/size][/color][/quote][/align]

[align=right][img]http://i227.photobucket.com/albums/dd102/vla101/Decorated images/Picnikcollage.jpg[/img]
[size=8][color=dimgray]I am at the center of the center[/color][/size][/align]


It is our destiny
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How did Jamal Malik win 20 million rupees?
a) he's lucky b) he cheated c) he's a genius
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D - IT IS WRITTEN


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I am at the center of the center
                                    Julian routinely liked to skip his Spanish class as long as he was there to take the tests - he was only taking it for the credit and as long as they didn't focus too much on the jacked-up Mexican Spanish inflection on everything, he would be fine. Even then, he could understand it perfectly fine. And he had better things to do during that hour, like sleep. He was currently out by the football field, laying down on the fresh cut grass. He was just being lazy and overall avoiding anything so constructive as thinking when he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. "The ********] He had no idea who'd be calling him at this point in time. He reached to grab it and saw the rather happy face of his sister, a certain Rosa Martinez looking at him.

                                    He picked up the phone. "Hola. Sup?" "Oh my gosh! Julian! I can't believe you didn't tell me this is so cool I can't wait I'm going to go to all of your performances, finally, I can go see something of yours instead of you coming to see me all the time which is great but at the same time - " He blinked, assaulted by the very happy ramblings of his supposedly sixteen-year-old sister. "What are you talking about?" "Glee! Why didn't you tell me that you auditioned and got in? I totally would have listened to you practice your audition, I heard it was hysterical and that you were actually good and I've always known you had a good voice and everything but now you're actually putting it to work and - " He cut her off a second time, unable to help but smile at her babbling. "Uh. I'm not joining. How did you find out?"

                                    "What? Oh! Jess told me." Julian sat up quickly and then swore as the blood rushed to his head. "No ******** way." "Yes ******** way." "Don't talk like that." "Hypocrite." "I know. But anyways, nawh, I'm not joining that s**t." He wanted to hit himself on the head as he heard the pleading tone in her voice. "What?! Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease you have to. Come on. I want to go and see you perform and do all that awesome stuff and I'll get to see Jess too and you know how much I love her and hang on, why aren't you in class?" Julian took a moment to sort out what she said in his head. "Wait, why aren't you in class?" "I asked first!" "I was born first so there." She muttered darkly in Spanish.

                                    "I took the day off to practice for my recital on Saturday, which you're going to, right?" "Yeah. Just make sure you text me the directions 'n stuff." "Yeah yeah, okay. Anyways, so you're doing this glee thing? That's so badass. You were always so much of a better singer than I was, I guess that's why I have an instrument. It sings for me." "You're not bad..." "Just shut up and stop changing the topic. I think you should do this." "I don't want to." "Just try it out. Please?" He let out a sigh. He'd really gotten himself into a mess. Mikey was going to pay for it when he got home. "No promises. I'll try." He pulled the phone away from his ear as she squealed.

                                    They talked a bit more about her recital and how she was doing. "How's that boyfriend of yours? He's a Lopez, right?" "Yeah. Santiago? He's good. I mean, sort of good. One of the linemen at your school took him down really hard in the last match and his leg broke pretty badly but he's getting better. I go and help him out at school and sometimes between practices. He likes pineapples. Why do you ask? You're not going to talk to him while cleaning out a handgun again are you?" "No. Just wondering." After that his sister had to leave to go back into the practice room and he figured he should go to lunch. He didn't want to deal with all the people that would come out onto the field and try to look cool by sitting perfectly poised with their lunches. It was pretty hard to look badass with a carton of milk.

                                    After walking off campus to get food even though he technically didn't have those privledges, he went to his classes and slept through the rest of them. He'd been working a lot of night shifts to get the good money that stripping cars afforded. People paid a lot of money to get rid of the evidence of something so simple as a robbery or even just a vengeful ex. He knew cars inside and out. But he was going to kill Jess. He tried to think of any practical excuse to get out of going. There were many. But now his sister knew about it and he hated doing anything to make her upset or dissapoint her.
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                          Name Here
                          Age Here
                          Year in HS
                          I sound like Who you sound like, clips appreciated, maybe with description
                          Other Any other talents

                          You want details? Go here



        The script writer,
        XXXXXXXXusername
        XXXXXXXXWith my postingcolor pen
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                    Jacqueline "Jackie Laurent
                    Member of Glee
                    gold
                    The Performer
                    Sixteen Years Old
                    Junior
                    Soprano

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