dnpdnsgtfo

[longbeard stinkypants]

this is my test thread, obviously
do us both a favor and press ctrl + w now
no posting, no stealing, no lurking
you know the drill


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[longbeard stinkypants]

❝alexander michael roukey❞


writer ★ roukey ★ eighteen ★ #65849F ★ longbeard stinkypants


Hey there. Alex Roukey at your service. Oh, you've heard of me? You've read my blog? Well, I'm not entirely surprised. Apparently I'm a pretty big deal around here. Of course, it hasn't always been like this. Now I'd love to tell you that my life was full of depressing situations that shaped me into the man I am today. I'd love to take you through some sob story about how I wasn't loved enough so I turned to literature instead. But... I'd be lying. The truth is, my life wasn't all that different from any other American teenager. I grew up in a middle class home smack dab in the middle of Denver, Colorado. I grew up here, went through school here and buried every single one of my deceased pets in the backyard of the house I still live in. My family, we're not really the traveling type. At least my parents aren't. My mother has lived in Colorado her entire life, while my father has moved a total of two times in his life. Yeah, they're an adventurous bunch.

I've always been a bit of a literature buff. By the time I hit eight grade, I was reading at a college level. My room at home is practically lined with bookshelves, full of books I've read a million times over. Of course, that didn't win me any friends until my second year of high school. Throughout middle school and the first part of high school, I was the type of kid who walked around looking like complete hell with a book constantly glued to the tip my nose. I didn't see the point in having too many friends, because high school was a crock of bull anyway. Just a big popularity contest that I would never (and really don't want to) win. So I didn't try. I guess you could've called me a loner. But after awhile, sitting by myself at lunch with my latest read just wasn't satisfying. So I mixed things up, let my true nature shine through. And I got the results I figured I would.

Once I abandoned my all around unapproachable attitude, started smiling as I passed people and started conversations with people who normally didn't even notice I existed, my social life seemed to skyrocket. I got friends, got noticed and even got a few girlfriends in the process. I went from self proclaimed outcast to social butterfly, borderline class clown. I spoke up in class, made people laugh and started this blog that everyone seemed to get hooked on. But I never abandoned my favorite hobby, just crafted another one around it. All of these years of reading, all of these years of absorbing literature seemed to morph me into this writer that I didn't even know I could be. I mean, I wrote before the blog. I did assignments when I was asked and even had a few short stories I had written out of boredom, but nothing that compared to the stuff I was spitting out by the time I hit seventeen.

I've only recently gotten into writing novel length stories and developing my name as a writer. I'm working on a piece now (or I was) that I plan on submitting with my college applications. Mama's little home - body wants to be a Berkley man. But some weird things have been happening lately. At first, this story was just something I was writing based off a few of my classmates in an English course I'm taking. But soon it got bigger, people started really getting into it and so did I. But then, what I wrote started coming true. My murder mystery... my fictitious story started to become a reality. The head cheerleader at my school, the one who died first in my story came up missing. And then, the police found her right where my story said she'd be. The same thing happened to the football captain. People started blaming me and now.. well now I'm not sure what to do.

I guess it's a good thing that I don't even write myself into my own stories.

[longbeard stinkypants]

The lifestyle of a rockstar didn't turn out to be anything like what you'd read in magazines or see on television. For the past year, as Reckless Abandoment made its rapid ascend to the top of the charts and into the hearts of teenagers across the country, Jackson McCoy's life hadn't been nearly as amazing as he had expected it to be. Getting famous and having your name be a household one was the American Dream. It was suppose to make you happy; it was suppose to be a blast. But it wasn't either of those things. It was work, always work and really.. Jackson was starting to wonder if it was even worth it. Sure, he loved his fans and being on stage sharing his music with the world had always been a dream of his but that wasn't anywhere near what he wanted. His band, the one he had formed so long ago, was slowly selling out. It was becoming more and more noticeable everyday. The changes in the moods of their songs, the clothes they were or weren't allowed to wear.. oh and of course, their behavior. They were slowly becoming one of those pop bands that preteens loved and real bands mocked. This wasn't what Jax wanted; wasn't what he envisioned when he first formed the band. It was suppose to be about the music. It wasn't suppose to be about how many tickets they sold or whether or not the newest single was at the top of the charts. It was about reaching people through something that meant the world to each and every one of them. He just wasn't sure if any of the other members felt the way he did anymore.

Unlike every other member of his band (save Jude of course) Jax woke up all by his lonesome with no one sharing his comfortable hotel bed. Jax wasn't the type of guy to use his fame to have his way with his many attractive and fairly easy fans. At least, he wasn't that guy anymore. Before the band got famous, before he got famous.. Jax was known as the guy who was always on some sort of substance and never slept with a girl twice. He woke up to a different face every morning and spent his nights completely wasted. Not anymore though. Eventually that lifestyle got the best of him and after being sent to a court ordered rehab, he turned himself around. What a story. You'd think it would be one he'd happily share with the public, with his fans but it wasn't. Jax was ashamed of who he use to be, of the things he use to do. He wasn't that man anymore, if that person he use to be could even be considered such. He was a totally different person now and letting people know he had once been as bad as Jace or even Julian, well that just didn't seem like a great idea. He didn't want people dwelling on his mistakes. He wanted to be known for what he did now, who he was now. His past was just that, his past. It needed to stay there but apparently, that wasn't an outlook reporters shared with him. Somehow his story had made it to the tabloids. Then again, who really believed those magazine's anyway?

Throughout the morning, Jax spent most his time going over things that his best friend (and manager) had shoved off on him the night before. Well, shoving off wasn't exactly the right term. It was more like, Jax offered and the man was more than happy to have the help. It wasn't like Jax really had much to do before rehearsal anyway. He wasn't the type who spent hours on his appearance, he took the quickest showers out of all of his band mates, there weren't any women lingering in his hotel room for him to deal with and he sure as hell wasn't nursing a hang over thanks to a night of partying. So going over paperwork, checking his friends work and dealing with the money was definitely his forte at the moment. It kept his mind off of what he would be doing had he been the same person he was two years prior to the bands big break. It kept him from regretting his decision to stay sober and it kept him from wondering what harm it would do to have just one drink. Especially since he was going on nearly two years completely sober. Sure, there were times when he indulged in the occasional night with a woman he barely knew but as for everything else.. he had steered clear of it. Which was quite a feat given his profession. But Jax had always been a strong willed person. There was no doubt in his mind that he could make it through this tour without sullying his record.

Of course, amongst the papers Jax was quickly making his way through there happened to be a few newspaper and magazine articles about the band. His best friend just so happened to be the publicist as well. As he flipped through the large amount of articles, most about either Julian's relationship with whats - her - name or Jace's newest shocking story.. Jax found himself almost floored when he found one covering him. Jax always tried his best to keep out of the public eye. He always left that for the more adventurous individuals of the band. But here, in large black font was an article specifically about him. At first Jax just threw it down and got up form his seat at the small desk in his hotel room. But soon enough, once he was done brushing his teeth and washing his face he made his way back to the table and picked up the article. Jackson McCoy: Juvenile Delinquent or Jaded Rocker? The title said it all. These people knew nothing about Jackson or his past. He was no delinquent and while he had been arrested once.. the charges had been dropped upon his agreement to attend a rehabilitation program. As for jaded, well he could see where they could get that from the attitude he always displayed for reporters trying to get the next big story but he personally didn't see himself that way. He just didn't like interviews. Had never participated in one and never planned on doing so.

By the time Jax was finished checking the manager's work it was already time for him to be at rehearsal. This wasn't good, especially for Jax. He was always the first one at rehearsal, always the one who yelled at everyone else for not being there. And now he was the one who was late. At least he had a valid reason though. Instead of sleeping in or having to go another round with a nameless girl, he was doing paperwork for the band. So that in itself gave him an excuse. Quickly, Jax shoved all of the paperwork he had been working on into his black messenger bag and threw it on the bed while he stripped down to his birthday suit and proceeded to jump into the shower. Thankfully showering didn't take him much time at all and before he knew it, he was clean and walking into his hotel room with a towel tied around his waist. There was no time for him to shave before rehearsal but he was often told he needed to just let his facial hair grow out. That it made him look as wise as he seemed.. or some other bullshit. Really, drunk women didn't give good advice at all. It took Jax barely five minutes to get his clothes on, grab all of the things he'd need just in case he didn't have time to come back to the hotel and get downstairs. Once outside of the hotel, which was incidentally only a few blocks from the concert hall that Reckless Abandonment was playing at, he began walking rather briskly towards his destination. Which ended up being on of his less intelligent ideas.

Jax had really underestimated just how many people in the Seattle area listened to Reckless Abandonment as well as how many of those people knew what he looked like when he was wearing his favorite pair of sunglasses. At first, walking down the street in his usual pair of rugged dark wash jeans and a plaid button up shirt was a breeze. He looked like he was just a regular guy who was in a rush, given his messy and still wet hair and his hurried pace. But apparently, his hurried walk was what caught the attention of a group of girls that were no older than sixteen or seventeen. He heard their inquiries as he passed them but he knew better than to give them any sort of inkling that he was who they thought he was. He was a pro at avoiding people; at looking as if he were just some random guy walking down the street. Obviously he wasn't as good as he thought he was because just as he turned the corner and came face to face with the venue he was to be playing at he found himself surrounded by a huge group of fangirls. There was a group of seven behind him, hurrying to catch up to him and just as he paused to see what the best way to avoid the fans in line for last minute tickets.. those seemed to recognize him as well. The moment he heard someone yell "It's Jax" his eyes grew wide and he bolted towards the nearest door. No one chased him inside like he had figured they would, but he could heard the giggles and hysteric screams from where he stood just inside the door.

[********] Jax exclaimed as his heartbeat began slowly going back to normal and the adrenaline in his blood left him. Overly - obsessed fans had to be his number one fear. He was convinced that one day he'd end up dead in the middle of some random street thanks to them. It wasn't that he didn't love or appreciate his fans, he just didn't see why they had to freak out when they saw any member of the band. It wasn't like they were any different from regular guys. He didn't run down the street screaming and crying when he saw his favorite bands so why should they? Shaking his head, Jax ran a hand through his still damp and stringy hair before he began walking through the seats of the lower level and up to the stage. There were people everywhere, roadies setting up the equipment and making sure everything worked as it was suppose to. That was one of the few things he loved now that the band was big. One of the worst parts of a show was setting up and breaking down and now, he had people who did it for him. Call him lazy, call him what you will.. but until you've done it you can't judge. As he made his way across the stage into the backstage area, he plastered a weak smile on his face and waved at a few of the guys he recognized. The problem with roadies was they either made themselves known to you or they faded into the background. Jax was never one to go out of his way to befriend someone who obviously didn't want it.

While the venue was buzzing with activity and Jax had been bumped into quite a few times on his way to the dressing room, Jax felt rather calm. He always got this way before a show. In the hours leading up to it, he was as calm as could be and the moment he stepped out onto that stage the butterflies assaulted him. Even after being in the spotlight for such a long time, he still managed to get them as bad as he did the first time he played. As he made his way down the hallway leading to the room marked with a large yellow star, he could already hear his band mates going on about something. The moment Jax heard what they were speaking of (as well as Jude's minor freak out) he felt a frown pull at his lips and he slowed his pace. This was not a conversation he wanted to be in. While everyone else in the band seemed to freak out every time that wannabe wrote a blog about them, Jax just did his best to ignore it. She was just a jealous little girl who had nothing better to do than insult successul people because she herself just couldn't get the same attention. Sure, she was a famous blogger but what was the big thing in that? Famous blogger. The name in itself showed just how lame she was. She was famous for not liking a band that millions of other people liked. she was famous because of Reckless Abandonment. Really, she was just a leech.

After taking in a deep breath, Jax grabbed the handle of the dressing room door and opened it. The moment he walked in, he saw three pairs of eyes shoot to him and he quickly held his hands up. "Before you say anything, I'm late because I got caught up in paperwork for the band." There, he had made his peace and that was all he was going to say on the matter. Not that he was really that late at all. He just wasn't as early as he usually was. As for this Bambi conversation, Jax wasn't going to touch it with a ten foot pole. Letting his eyes run over all of the men before him, he flashed them a disinterested smile and walked over to the opposite corner of the room. He quickly pulled off his messenger bag and grabbed out the folder full of paperwork he had been working on. "Where's Julian? It'd be nice to actually start rehearsal on time for once." He stated in a matter - of - fact tone before setting the papers down on the coffee table in front of the large couch that was taking up most of the dressing room. Once he straightened back up, he began rolling the long sleeve of his brown plaid shirt up to his elbows and waited for someone to say something.. anyone really. As long as it wasn't about Miss I can insult music but I can't make it, he was perfectly content with having a conversation while waiting for their publicist and bassist.




"Speech hurr."
Thoughts hurr.
Text hurr.

✖ - - i heard you found another audience to borefillerfillerfillerf
✖ - - a creative thinker who imagined you were morefillerfillerfil
✖ - - a new body for you to push around and posefillerfillerfiller
✖ - - it's all about taking the easy way out for you, i supposefiler

[longbeard stinkypants]

The air outside was freezing cold and it took Rudy Harris everything he had just to keep from letting his teeth chatter like they begged to. He couldn't make a sound, not in his current position. Not when he was barely ten feet from Caydence and his buddies hiding behind a tree and listening for a clue as to what this meeting was all about. Rudy hated how curious he was, hated the fact that even though he knew he'd probably be caught he still came anyway. He wanted to know more than anything, for some reason he thought knowing Caden's secret might help the boys bond a little. Maybe after Rudy knew, Caden would make the effort to at least talk to the brunette. He wasn't sure why it was so important to him to get to know the towering beast that was standing rather close to him, but the urge was still there. Had Rudy been entirely confident in his sexuality, he would've blamed in on his feelings towards the boy. He'd blame it on that high school crush he knew he had but barely even admitted to himself. But no, Rudy wasn't secure enough to even think about that at the moment. It was something else, maybe the fact that he wanted to stop being so afraid of the large male. Yeah, that made sense. If he knew his secret maybe Caydence would back off a bit.

"talk"

Rudy knew the exact moment that the others noticed he was crashing their little party. He knew because all at once, they all seemed to stiffen and his body was frozen solid, even though his mind urged him to run. It was an idiotic idea coming out here, he knew that much the moment he stepped foot into the forest but Rudy had always been the curious sort. He didn't like not knowing certain things and since Caydence still remained a mystery to him, it was only natural that he would want to find out what this boy was hiding. Now he didn't want to know, now he didn't care. All he cared about was turning around and running as fast as he could back to the dorms where he'd lock the door and refuse to let Caydence in even if he decided to come back. Unfortunately that didn't seem to be what was going to happen because the moment Rudy regained even the slightest movement in his body, he heard Caydence's deep voice and saw one of his tall friends walking briskly in his direction. With eyes wide and breath coming in soft, panicked gasps Rudy began to back up but only got a few feet before his back collided with the trunk of a large tree. There wasn't enough time for him to even think about darting around the tree before Caydence was right in front of him, staring down at him with a look that was nearly as terrifying as the one he had received from him early. Oh s**t...

Rudy quickly opened his mouth to spout out nonsense about how he had just been taking a walk and that he was just going to go back to his dorm now, but all that came out was a pathetic little squeak as the larger boy wrapped his huge arms around Rudy's waist. Never before had he been carried in such a way, or even by a man at that. It was almost scarier than the fact that he was with the meanest guys in school, out in the middle of the woods where no one would find him for days.. maybe even weeks. Rudy felt like his ribs were being crushed as Caydence tightened his grip and carried him out of the very small clearing that the rest of the group was standing in. He could feel all of their eyes on him, boring into him with intense hatred and anger but for some reason the only one he looked at was Caydence. With huge, fearful eyes he watched the boy's face contrort in anger and he felt the urge to tell him why he was out there, to explain himself. He wanted to, really he did but Caydence was cutting off his air supply and he really didn't know what to say. What did he want him to say? That he was sorry? Please don't kill him? It all seemed so pointless so instead of apologizing or pleading with the boy, Rudy just wiggled in an attempt to get free of the huge arms that were encasing him and hoped that maybe these strange guys wouldn't hurt him like he feared. All he wanted was to be back in his warm room, under his huge comforter with the door dead-bolted. Yeah, that sounded nice.

Rudy ran, he ran as fast as he could back towards the lights he knew belonged to the school and as he ran he could hear loud howls as well as his own heartbeat thumping loudly in his ears. He wasn't sure what he just saw or heard, he couldn't explain any of it but all that he knew was that he needed to get out of the forest before whatever Caydence's friends had turned into found him. No wonder he was so afraid of the boy and no wonder Caydence never spoke to anyone outside of that group. They were all the same, whatever it was that they were. Rudy cursed himself for being so curious, for wanting to know what Caydence was hiding. Now he knew and now he was more scared than he had been before. Finally making it out of the forest, Rudy ran as fast as he could across the silent street and lawn. He reached the front doors only moments after he emerged from the forest and quickly entered, not caring how loud he was or whether or not he got caught. He just wanted to be inside, where those things couldn't get him.. where he was safe. As safe as he could be with Caden with him that was. Thankfully though, he didn't get caught and finally made it to his room where he was immediately pushed onto his bed where he proceeded to begin shaking. Questions plagued his mind, more than he had before his little visit in the woods and none of them made any sense. Why did he have to be so nosy? Why couldn't he just let Caydence be?

[longbeard stinkypants]

┌------------------------------------┐

i'm a w a r
of head {versus} heart

&XXi t ' sXXa l w a y sXXt h i sXXw a y

my head is weak
my heart always s p e a k s

before i k n o w what it will say

└------------------------------------┘

fillerfillmegan elizabeth sinclairfillerfill
‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾
• • • • • • • • • • •

"Ben, we're just going two different places." Then the tears began. She didn't think there would be tears. The hours she had spent rehearsing what she was going to say and how she'd react to his pleas, they hadn't prepared her for this. He looked miserable, like his heart had just been ripped right out of him. Well, it had. After years upon years of standing by each others side, through thick and thin. After years of romantics dinners, friday nights spent in comfortable (and unattractive) pajamas while other couples went out on the town and enough firsts to fill up an entire baseball stadium.. she was ending it. And over what? Pre - wedding jitters? Another man? Loss of interest? Nope. She honestly didn't know. She just woke up one morning and the thought of spending the rest of her life with the only man she had ever been with in every sense of the word scared her. So she ended it. At least that's what she let him believe.

"I'm so sorry Ben. I still love you I just.. I don't think this is going to work."

"Why?" The pain in his eyes was enough to make Megan want to crawl into the nearest hole and stay there until she died. It would be easy, given the apartment complex that they lived in was right beside a nice sized forest. But that wasn't what Megan came here to do and even though it would hurt, he'd see this through. She'd tell him why she was leaving. Well, she'd tell him part of it. With a shaky breath, a result of the tears that were now pouring down her face, Megan tried to calm herslef down long enough to answer him. Long enough to tell him...

"I'm pr --"

All of a sudden Megan found it hard to breathe. Like she had just resurfaced from being underwater for far too long. The sweat added to the effect as well. It rolled from her brow and soaked the silk nightdress she wore; the one Ben had given her the previous Christmas. The last Christmas they spent as a couple; the last time they'd kiss under the mistletoe. Just the thought of Benjamin White made her heart crumble into a million pieces. This was how she spent her days without him. She was an emotionally wreck and the reoccurring dreams of the night she said goodbye to him for good didn't help at all. They started about a week after the break up and they hadn't stopped since. It always ended at the exact same time, right when she was about to tell him about the pregnancy. That's right. Little miss perfect, Megan Sinclair was pregnant. That was why she dumped Benjamin. That was why she was so miserable now. Because the small town girl who promised her parents (and pastor) that she'd never have sex before married was pregnant. It wasn't so much the fact that she and Benjamin had sex before they were married because really, who didn't these days? It was the fact that she was pregnant! In nine months she'd have a baby coming out of her and really, she didn't have the time, energy or financial means for a child at the moment. She wasn't anywhere near where she wanted to be in her career and frankly, she and Ben weren't ready to further their family. Hell, they hadn't even become one yet and now.. well now there wasn't even a family for this little one to come into.

Mornings had never really been Megan's thing. Before the little monster that was currently growing in her stomach, Megan constantly slept in and wouldn't rise for anything short of the end of the world. Now that she had a bun in the oven though, she was getting up earlier than usual but not exactly spending the time how she'd like to. This morning was no different from any other, save from the fact that her new kitten was currently unconscious in her bed while she had a jolly good time in the bathroom a few feet from him. It was a wonder the animal was still asleep. Megan was making the most dreadful noises in the bathroom, ones she had been positive would wake the small creature up. But alas, it didn't and Megan was left to deal with her morning sickness on her own. Really she preferred it this way. If Swarley woke up, then he'd end up circling her leg and rubbing himself against her heaving body. Megan much preferred doing this on her own to having him being nosy and wondering if she was alright. She was use to this by now, since she had been pregnant for a little over a month. Yes, she had been carrying this secret with her for quite some time and no one knew besides Megan and her doctor. She wished she could keep it that way forever, but there was no way she'd be able to play off getting so fat. She wasn't a miracle worker.

Megan groaned loudly into the toilet bowl that she was holding onto for dear life. She had just emptied all of the contents of her stomach into the toilet and she felt like complete and utter s**t. She was more than happy that her roommate was a heavy sleeper. Given that the girl was related to Benjamin, it came as no shock. He was the kind of man who could sleep through a natural disaster and then some. So it wasn't surprising that his younger sister, Nell, who was now one of the few friends she still had that would actually talk to her after what she did to Ben, was oblivious to Megan's predicament. It was strange how one of the few people who decided to continue talking to Megan happened to be the sibling of the man whose heart she had shattered but she didn't read too much into it. Her relationship with Nell was fine the way it was, so bringing up why the girl decided to stay friends with her didn't seem like the smartest thing to do. The only reason Megan could think of was the fact that Nell saw through all of her bullshit. She had a sneaking suspicion that the blond girl didn't believe a word of her claim that her career was more important at the moment and that she just didn't feel like she and Ben were going anywhere. A part of her wanted to tell Nell. A stronger part of her knew that was a horrible idea. The only good that would come of her telling Nell would be to finally get that weight off of her shoulders. But at the same time, she ran the risk of Nell telling her brother and Megan wasn't quite ready for that just yet.

Slowly, Megan reached up and pulled on the lever that flushed the toilet before pushing herself up off of the ground and walking over to the shower in her small bathroom. She was so thankful that her room had a bathroom attached to it, especially now that she was pregnant and threw up every morning. The last thing she needed was her roommate walking in and asking her why she did that every morning. That just wasn't a conversation that Megan desired to have early in the morning... or ever really. With a heavy sigh, Megan turned the shower on and began peeling her clothes off. She was sweaty and nasty from throwing up as well as the activities of the previous night, so a shower sounded really nice at the moment. Her shower was quick, like most of the ones she took now - a - days. She had no reason to spend extra time making herself look gorgeous. There was no point in making sure her legs were as smooth as could be, even though she did try her best to shave them regularly. Had Meagn still been in her old apartment with Ben still passed out in the bed one room over she might've taken her time. She might've cleaned up a little more for him but that wasn't the case. It would never be the case. Not after all of the s**t she had already put him through.

After about ten minutes, Megan was perfectly clean and dressed in a pair of dark wash jeans (that were from her more heavy days) and a light gray shirt that, of course, belonged to Ben. It was one of the few shirts that still carried his scent and didn't show off just how much her belly had grown. Really it hadn't grown much at all but Megan was horribly self conscious about it. Although she planned on going out later that day, Megan didn't bother drying her hair or styling it at the moment. Really, she knew she'd eventually just throw it up into a ponytail and let it do its own thing. Hair, make up, fashion.. it had always been meaningless to Megan. Ben didn't really like her in too much make up so she rarely wore it anyway but now, it was like she didn't even try the little bit she use to. She constantly looked tired and miserable which was exactly how she felt. Her hair was never styled and her outfits barely ever complimented her figure anymore but she blamed that on the fact that her figure was getting larger and larger by the day. Soon enough she'd be as big as a blimp and she wouldn't be able to hide this anymore. Nell would know and by extension, Ben would as well. But knowing him he'd lean more towards the "you cheated" explanation than the one that was right in front of his face.

Megan made her way over to her still messy bed after she was done with everything in the bathroom only to find that her small kitten was still asleep. It wasn't unusual for the little furball to sleep so much but Megan still wanted to spend some time with it before she left. She had gotten the small animal not even a week after moving out of the apartment she had shared with Ben. Since Nell had a steady job and more of a life than Megan could dream about at the moment, Megan was often stuck at the apartment by herself for hours on end. She still had the paper to write for but since all of her pieces had turned out horrible morbid lately, the paper had decided that Megan needed a few weeks to gather herself before she started doing pieces for the paper again. So while she was still getting paid, she had absolutely nothing to occupy her time with. So when she saw Swarley in the window of a pet store she passed every morning on her way to the cafe just down the street from her new apartment, she just couldn't resist him. It was nice to have something that depended on her again. Except now instead of making dinner or bothering someone until they decided to take their smelly self into the bathroom and shower, all she had to do was fill up a food bowl and let the little thing be. She'd much prefer Ben to the little kitten but he was a nice substitute.

Soon enough, after picking up a few things from her bedside table and making her way quietly out of her bedroom, Megan found herself lounging on the large leather couch of the apartment. It was actually a couch she had helped Nell pick out when she moved in. Had she known then that she'd end up staying in the same apartment that she helped furnish, she might've put more effort into it. Not that the apartment looked back by any means. It was actually quite cute but it was nothing compared to her previous one. This one was missing one huge piece of furniture; Benjamin. Of course, he couldn't technically be categorized as such but Megan did often use him as her own personal bean bag. Just thinking about it made her stomach lurch and instinctively, she reached into her pants pocket and pulled out her small (and rather cheap) phone. She checked her messages : nothing. Voicemail : nada. After a few short moments, she found herself staring at a number on the small screen, a number that belonged to man she use to constantly call. She hadn't dialed that number in three weeks. The last time she had, he picked up the phone and told her to never call him again. So she hadn't, even though it was practically killing her not to.

Megan practically threw her phone across the room but thankfully, it ended up hitting a chair and safely bounced onto the cushion. It was hell not talking to him. After five years together, he was the one she always knew she could count on. The one that knew every secret she had ever kept, besides the one that grew inside her at the moment. She wanted to tell him. Hell, she wanted to scream it at him. She wanted him to hold her and tell her it would all be alright. Because really, if he was with her she knew it would be. It didn't matter if she was pregnant or that her career was basically ruined by this. Sure, it was scary but it was even worse without him there. If he was there, going through it with her she'd be alright. They had been through more together than she had been through on her own. He was the reason she woke up in the morning, why she got out of bed. Now, she didn't have a reason. Now it was either get up or rot in bed for the rest of her life. Really, the latter sounded a lot better than having to deal with going on without that smile of his. Megan couldn't believe all of the little things she missed about him. She missed getting frustrated in the mornings when he left the cap off of the toothpaste and she missed waking up in the middle of the night because he was snoring too loud. She missed how frustrated he would get with her when she refused to change the channel from her dramatic little shows, so that he could see what was on the news. She hated that she had to miss all of these things. But most of all, she hated herself for making this her life. Spending her days thinking about him and her nights dreaming about him. It was hell and Megan was ready to be done with it.

Okay. This was it. Megan had been inside for far too long. She had been thinking about him for far too long. It was about time she went out and did something. Anything to get her mind off of him. As she sat up quickly, Megan's head began to spin a bit but once she was seeing straight again she turned her attention to the hall. "Nell!" She yelled loud enough for it to reach the younger blond in her bedroom. "I'm gonna go get some coffee. Do you want to come?" She yelled a little softer, but still loud enough to be heard. Coffee sounded great, as did one of those gigantic blueberry muffins that the cafe near her old apartment sold. She hadn't realized just how much she missed that place until she was thinking about it. As quickly as she could, given how tired she still was, Megan rose to her feet and began walking towards the hallway. "I'm starving and if I'm going with you to that party tonight, I'm going to need new clothes." If the word coffee hadn't gotten Nell's attention, Megan's last statement would. For the past month she had refused to do anything. That meant no parties, no bars, not anything. So saying she was going out with Nell tonight as well as buying a new outfit for the event, well that was probably the most exciting thing she could say at the moment. Aside from "Hey Nell, your brother and I are back together". But she wasn't going to get to say that anytime soon.



"speech"
thoughts
text

[ ooc ] --

[longbeard stinkypants]

fillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfiller© fionaRENALDO
fillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfill[ persephone mable buchanan ]

fillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfiller✖ you'll be a b***h because you can
fillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfiller✖ you try to hit me just to hurt me
fillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfiller✖ so you leave me feeling dirty
fillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfiller✖ because you can't understand

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❝ text ❞
text
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[longbeard stinkypants]

✖✖✖ amelia celeste wickhamfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfiller

at fill n i g h t filler the sun in retreatfillerfillerfillerfillerfiller
fillerfillerfillermade the skyline look like c r o o k e d fill t e e t h
fillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerin the mouth of a m a n who was { devouring } us both

Amelia had the strongest urge to just leave the bathroom and go back home and refuse to ever speak with Bruce Wayne again. She felt like swearing off fund raisers and the like forever, just so that she didn't have to see him again. How had she been so stupid? To think that Batman was some admirable soul. That he'd be any more than what this big shot playboy was. It was disgusting, the fact that she had allowed herself to go on with this fantasy image of the man behind the mask. She was so embarrassed that she had almost believed that there was more to the Batman than met the eye. There wasn't and really, Amelia wouldn't be surprised if all of the rumors about him were true. He didn't seem the hero type so she wouldn't put it past him to delve into the darker side of the super pool. That just meant that Amelia had the perfect ammo to shut down Bruce Wayne and Batman altogether. But Amelia she just wasn't sure she wanted to do that. For some reason this man had saved her. He had risked his safety and his own life to put the mask back on and save her. That was worth something. It was definitely worth her silence, at least.

Peering up from her work, Amelia looked in the mirror only to have her eyes lock onto Bruce's. She couldn't help it. It was like their eyes were magnets and she just couldn't bring herself to look away. She felt her hand slow on the project before her and an almost surprised look crossed her face. That grin, it almost made her want to smile back. It almost made her want to blush and turn around, hoping he had something witty and seemingly sexual to say. by the time she realized that she was just acting like another one of his women, Bruce had broken the eye contact himself and was looking down at the floor. Shaking her head, Amelia looked back down at the shirt which was already ruined. Red wine on an Armani shirt; well there wasn't much anyone could do to save that. But he had said that he could buy another so why was she even bothering with cleaning this own? She was only succeeding in ruining it further. Still, it gave Amelia a reason to leave that retched fund raiser and to be one on one with the man who had saved her life only weeks prior. She tried to tell herself that she was just doing the right thing by trying to clean his shirt but really, she just wanted to speak with him. she wanted to know why he saved her and what really happened that night.

When Bruce apologized, Amelia couldn't help but let a smile come across her face and a few hearty laughs fall from her lips. He didn't know how distracting he was? Bruce Wayne was known for his playboy mannerism and his way with the women so for him to have the audacity to say something was beyond belief. "I'm sure." She muttered under her breath before she returned to the shirt, sneaking glances up at him from time to time. Eventually, she grew tired of fighting a pointless battle and she rung the shirt out and laid it on the counter to dry. She hadn't really thought about how he wouldn't be able to wear it once she was done, but that just meant more time with his shirt off. With a tiny smirk on her lips, Amelia turned around and eyeballed the delicious man before her. She watched as he got closer and closer, making the gap between them almost non - existent. What was he doing? Amelia's mind was reeling and her pulse quickened at the thought of what might come next. His smell was intoxicating and his chest almost touched hers.. and then he grabbed his shirt and returned to his position across from her to put it back on.

Amelia wanted to scream at him for making her feel the way she had. She wanted to kick him out of the bathroom and have a few good screams at herself. Why had she reacted in such a way and why had kissing Bruce Wayne been the only thing on her mind when he leaned forward? She hated herself for being angry that he hadn't followed through with what she had been hoping he was doing. She wanted him to kiss her, wanted to feel those thin lips against her full ones. She hated herself for it, for wanting to be just another one of his girls but he made it hard to resist. With his snippy comments and the way he held himself, but also the vulnerability in his eyes when he looked at her. As if she held the one thing in her that could ruin him for ever. It was the one thing that told her she wasn't wrong about thinking he was Batman. It was the one thing that told her what she already knew. As she watched him putting his cold, wet shirt back on she could almost feel her defenses weakening. She had only just met this man in yet he knew more about her than anyone else had ever. He knew her deepest, darkest secret and she was sure that added to the feelings she held for him.

Amelia couldn't help but feel a little annoyed that Bruce had his shirt back on but at the same time, it took away a lot of the temptation that had been there before. With his shirt back on it was easier to hate him. Easier to keep herself from jumping on him. Easier to form coherent thoughts. With a sigh, Amelia let her eyes flow over the now clothed Bruce Wayne and she gave him a nod of approval. "You can't even tell you ran into me." She commented, wondering if it would cause him to get a little heated about the fact that it was her cup of wine that spilled on him. Still, it hadn't been her fault at all. Had he been looking where he was going instead of ogling women like she was sure he was, then maybe he wouldn't be stuck in a bathroom with Amelia. Then maybe she'd still have this flawless image of Batman in her mind other than the one he had replaced it with. Crossing her arms at her chest, Amelia glanced up at Bruce with an indifferent look on her face.. practically daring him to either say something or leave. Either way she'd be fine. It didn't matter to her if they talked about what they both already knew to be true or if they never spoke to each other again. Sure, she had to admit she'd be a little disappointed because she was looking forward to that conversation but a big part of her still didn't want to believe it was him. Then he said something that made it clear in her mind just who Batman was.

Amelia unfolded her arms and stood up straight walking up to Bruce and staring right into those big eyes of his. She pursed her lips a bit and looked at him as if she was trying to figure him out, as if he were a riddle she just couldn't solve. "I'm sorry Mr. Wayne, but I have no idea what you're talking about." She said, her tone dripping with sincerity. Her eyes stayed locked with him and she arched her eyebrows in a quizzical manner. "Do I really look like the type of girl who needs saving? Especially from Gotham's biggest playbo -- businessman?" She inquired before she turned around and faced the large mirror in front of her. She began fiddling with her curly hair and fixing her make up as he stood behind her. She watched as his eyes flew over her, obviously trying to figure her out and she couldn't help but smile at his obvious confusion. He had been convinced it was her and now that she was denying that she knew what he was talking about he didn't seem so sure of himself. "What's the matter Mr. Wayne?" She asked, turning around and looking up at him for a moment. "Bat got your tongue?" She added before turning from him, unlocking the door and making her way back out into the fund raiser.

Instead of entering the large ballroom again, Amelia made her way out of the door leading to the elevators and quickly took one down. She knew Bruce would look for her at the fund raiser, so that gave her time to get home before he could follow her. She knew it was pointless to hurry, because a man like Bruce Wayne would know where her posh apartment was but it was still a thrill to run away from Batman. When she was out of the building, Amelia opted to take a cab rather than her father's limo which was waiting for her in the parking deck. Limo driver's knew nothing about speed and Amelia didn't feel like dealing with her father's limo driver telling her father that she left early. The cab drive was quick, given she only lived a few minutes from where the fund raiser was being held and as soon as she paid the driver she was out of the cab and in her building. She lived on the fifteenth floor of one of the best apartment complexes in Gotham. As soon as she got to her apartment, which was of course.. every woman's dream apartment, she quickly changed out of her dress and into a pair of black pants and a dark t -shirt. Dressing formal just wasn't her thing. Once she was out of her clothes and comfortable, she collapsed on the couch and waited for the inevitable knock on her door. Or if she was lucky, her window.


ooc - - - ew

[longbeard stinkypants]

___________________________________________________________________

this thread will be short and to the point. i'm searching for a decent roleplaying partner willing to do a true blood based role play. i want someone who can actually bring some creativity to the table and makes me enjoy writing my replies instead of dreading it. i'm capable of writing novel sized posts if i really put my mind to it but for now i'm looking for more relaxed post lengths. i want someone who can average about five or more beefy paragraphs per post.i tend to match posts and i expect you to be able to do the same. i play canon and oc's and i've read all of the books as well as seen every episode in the series so far. i see the two as different storylines and i don't like mixing them together.. so i'll be asking for tv - verse pairings as well as book - verse pairings. (btw i prefer bookverse)

[longbeard stinkypants]

Pepper couldn't help but replay the previous fifteen minutes in her head as she took the stairs down to the main floor and walked back to her office. There were so many things to think about, so many things that just didn't sit right with her. There was the fact that Tony was obviously jealous of the fact that she was going out to lunch on her day off with Rhodey and not with him. That she could understand a bit because she knew there was quite a bit of lust floating around in the feelings he had for her, but to be that jealous? To be so jealous that he down right forbid her to go? Well that was just ridiculous. Sure, he was pretty inebriated and he took back what he said almost immediately but that didn't take it back completely. He had still said it and she knew that he meant it. That he didn't want her going and that he would rather have her at his home, waiting on him hand and foot than out having a life of her own. She had heard it many a times, that line that always kept her from having too much of a life. I don't like it when you have plans. If Tony didn't like it, Pepper rarely did it. She fought herself on it constantly, telling herself she should live her life for herself instead of for Anthony Stark. But without her, Tony wouldn't be able to tie his own shoes let alone survive. That's what kept her around. That's the thing that kept Pepper Potts from leaving every time Tony got wasted and treated her like she was scum, or every time he brought a girl home and kicked her out of the house. She just couldn't live with herself if she left and something happened to him. She just couldn't.

When Pepper made it back to her office, she quickly shut the door and hurried over to her desk chair and collapsed in it. Her day was starting to be just as stressful, if not more, than her usual days at work were. But now instead of people hounding her for interviews with Iron Man, Tony was causing her brain to get all jumbled and her logic to fly out of the window. She had been so close up there, to telling him to either shove it or to finally take what he wanted. She really wasn't sure which of those options she wanted anymore. On one hand, Tony would stop flirting with her and making her job harder than it already was. There would be no phrases with double meanings, there would be no blushing and there sure as hell wouldn't be anything like what had happened today. But if she finally gave in, if she told him to finally grow some balls and give her what she needed she risked her job. There was no doubt in her mind that the sex would be phenomenal. He was Tony Stark for christ's sake. But that didn't mean it would come without its complications. There would be tension afterwards and a mess of emotions that hadn't been there before. And in the heat of the moment, Pepper wasn't sure what would slip from her mouth. What if she accidentally told him how she really felt, that she was in love with him and that he was the only man to ever make her feel so alive? Well that would just complicate things anymore. Because as much as she hated to admit it, Tony Stark wasn't capable of loving a woman like her. Not that they'd even make a good couple. He was an alcoholic womanizer and she, well she wasn't the type of woman to put up with that. So it was best if she just continued to ignore her feelings and left Tony to make his own decisions.

Pepper spent the next thirty minutes or so buried in her work like she often did when Tony came a little too close to breaking through that large barrier she had put up. She spent her time writing the speech he was suppose to give the following week, telling herself that even if he refused she'd make him do it because she had spent a good thirty minutes on it. It wasn't perfect by any stretch of the imagination but it hit the key points that it was suppose to and that's all that really mattered. Once she was done slaving over the speech, she went on to reading over a few documents that Tony had to sign the next day. Some were from various share holders in Stark Industries and others were just random little agreements that she'd doubt he'd even read. After all it was her job to get rid of the ridiculous things, to explain everything to him as simply as she could and make sure he didn't agree to anything too insane. Lately that had become a little harder than it use to be. Now their were offers for the Iron Man suit. Huge offers that often made Pepper gasp and do a double take. Of course she never let Tony anywhere near those papers. The first time she had brought them to his attention, he had gone off on her so badly that she didn't dare do it again. Now they all went into her shredder, never to be thought of again. Unless of course, Tony brought it up first. then she was more than happy to relay the painstakingly high numbers to him. He never sold though, which was something Pepper was always grateful for. She had been there when the suit had gotten into the wrong hands. She had stood there helplessly while Tony battled for his life. She didn't want to do that again, ever.

As she was looking over an invite for yet another benefit thrown by Stark Industries, Pepper heard something click in front of her and she quickly looked up. The figure was blurry at first, since she was looking through her reading glasses so she pushed them down her nose and was almost relieved to see Tony standing there looking completely dashing. Just as she opened her mouth to inquire as to why he was paying her a visit instead of summoning her to wherever he had been, he apologized for the intrusion and took a seat before her. Pepper leaned back in her chair, a little skeptical about why Tony Stark was in her office. It was a rarity for Tony to visit her at all. Usually he just had Jarvis summon her or he talked to her over the intercom. Coming to her office, well that almost never happened. So she was quite intrigued as to why he was there but a little worried about what the answer would be. As soon as he began talking though, she calmed down her curiosity and let the corners of her mouth slip up into the makings of a smile. It wasn't until he requested a full smile that he gave him such but he seemed satisfied with what he got and soon enough he was turning towards the door, telling her to tell Rhodey he said hello. Whatever remnants of a smile she had disappeared at the mention of Rhodey. She could tell that he still wasn't happy about this new development by the tone in which he said the man's name but Pepper hoped it would pass. She couldn't deal with Tony being like this every time Rhodey was brought up in conversation or when he was around the two of them.

It took Pepper about fifteen more minutes to finish up with everything and once she was, it was time for her to put everything where it belonged and get the hell out of there. So after placing all of the papers she had been filling out and going over in their corresponding folders inside her desk, she locked it and began cleaning up. There weren't too many things out of place, just a few pens and a calculator so it didn't take long for her to clean up. But before she could even think about getting up from her seat and leaving her office for the day, she heard her door click open and her eyes flew up to it. Her glasses were safe in their container inside her desk so there was no blurry figure this time, just the pissed of stance of a military man who didn't seem to want to be there at all. Pepper furrowed her brow as he shut the door and looked at her with the most annoyed face she was sure he could muster up. "What's wrong?" Pepper asked in a curious voice as she scooted her chair back and stood up. She made her way over to Rhodey in record time and when he spoke, she wasn't sure if she wanted to be so close to him. "Tony has gone completely mad. He made me come over here just so he could grill me about our lunch and send me on some bogus errand at the office." The man before her almost growled, but Pepper could tell that he was trying his best to stay calm. Oh dear, this was where she needed to do some explaining.

With a heavy inhale, Pepper turned from the man and walked over to her desk, sitting down on the front of it and crossing her legs before she finally spoke. "I know what you mean. I told him earlier that I had plans with you for lunch and he completely freaked out. It's like he thinks he has some claim on me or something." The look on Rhodey's face seemed to soften at the pathetic tone of Pepper's voice and before she knew it, James was towering over her with a frown on his face. "Pepper, baby. You know as well as I do that when it comes to his friends, Tony gets a little crazy. We're all he's got and I'm pretty sure he's afraid that if we get too close it'll leave him out of the picture. And really, Tony isn't going to have too much fun with just Happy around." Pepper couldn't help but smile at that. It was the truth. Tony wasn't exactly blessed with a large amount of people that he could trust, but the friends he had were always there for him no matter what. She knew how scary it was thinking about losing any of the few friends she actually had. They weren't just her friends, they were her family. But that didn't meant that she was just going to ignore the rest of them in favor of Tony. Rhodey and Happy were her friends too and Tony had to deal with that. Just like she dealt with having to see him with a million other women.

"Well, he isn't too crazy for feeling a little threatened. If I didn't see you as more of a brother, I'm sure I'd be all over you." She admitted with a smile as she mockingly ran her finger down his chest. Her smile widened when a hearty laugh erupted from Rhodey's chest and he went on to say that any man would be a fool not to want her. "You should probably get going if you plan on making our date." She voiced finally, getting up from her spot on the desk and peering up at him. Rhodey just nodded and pulled her into a huge bear hug. She made sure to give him a kiss on the cheek before the tall man pulled away from her and left her office. Now things seemed to make a little more sense. Tony wasn't just sticking his claim on her, he was doing it to Rhodey as well. He didn't want to become a third wheel which was understandable. But Tony Stark would never be the third wheel. He was too lively and loud to ever fade into the background, plus her feelings for him were much stronger than the ones she felt for James. With a sigh, Pepper decided it was about time for her to leave the office and head back home to change. She could've changed in the bathroom connected to her office, especially since her outfit was laying in her car but she didn't want Tony to get mad about her dressing up to go into work and dressing down for a date that really wasn't a date at all.

After she grabbed her purse and slung it over her shoulder, Pepper turned off all of the lights in her office and closed up or the day. It was nice being able to leave work so early but it wasn't until she remembered it was her day off that she pushed the thought from her mind. As she made her way towards the employee entrance, Pepper decided that saying goodbye to Tony was probably a good idea and instead of turning towards the kitchen she made her way down the stairs and towards the shop where she was sure he was at. When she made it to the bottom of the stairs, she smiled when she saw that she was right and punched in the code to open the doors. Tony was so absorbed in working on a part of the suit that he didn't even notice that Pepper had entered the shop until she saw standing right next to him. She noticed the scowl on his face the moment his eyes locked with hers and she took a step back out of reflex. "I just came down here to tell you I'm gone for the day." She said, her voice small as his eyes bore into her. Why was he so angry? What had she done to upset him this time? She stared at him as he waved her off with a flick of his hand and grunted before returning to his work, barely even acknowledging that she was there anymore. That seemed to upset Pepper more than anything and before she could even think of what to do her body sprung into motion. Her small hands gripped the device in his own and pulled it from his grasp, careful to set it down on the table gently. When his hands were free and his face furrowed in a quizzical manner, she pulled his chair away from the table (thankfully it had wheels attached to the bottom) and she swiveled it around so that he was facing her. "Anthony Edward Stark," She rarely ever used his first name, unless she really meant business. "You're going to tell me right now what your problem is. All day you've been acting weird and I want to know why." She demanded, Taking a step back from him and crossing her arms at her chest, hoping it made her look more menacing to him. "And don't you dare blame it on alcohol. We both know how you act when you're two sheets to the wind." She warned before she closed her mouth and awaited his response. She hoped it was a good one, because she didn't feel like listening to any more bull today.


ooc - - - so i figured he could've watched them on the monitor
but maybe pepper made it so that he couldn't receive sound or something
and that's why he's so angry with her, because of how she was acting towards rhodey

✖ - - well here's a good man and a pretty young girlfiller
✖ - - trying to play together somehowfillerfillerfillerfill
✖ - - i'm wasting my life, you're changing the worldfillerl
✖ - - i get drunk and watch your head growfillerfillerfilll

[longbeard stinkypants]

✖ ✖ ✖ filler fiona marie quinnfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfiller

fill y o u took my life turned it aroundfillerfillerfillerfillerfiller
fillerfillerfillerand put my f e e t fill back on the g r o u n d
fillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfiller i filler o w e filler you filler { eternally }

Friday the thirteenth had always been an unlucky day for Fiona Quinn, but she was determined that this one was the day that would turn her luck around. That this friday the thirteenth wouldn't be just another sad story that she told her friends, just another unlucky day for a girl whose lucky days were few and far between. No, today was going to be an amazing day. Today was the day that she finally left her sad reputation behind her and finally showed that friend of hers that she was no longer a woman that needed to be pitied. That she had her life figured out and that she wanted him to be a part of it, not just someone who helped her out when she wasn't doing so hot. Yeah, today was going to be that day. At least she hoped it would be. Knowing her though, she'd see him giving Charlie the look she had always hoped he'd give her and she'd forget all about it. She'd clam up like she always did when she was seconds away from telling him and she'd change the subject to something random just to clear her mind. Still, the plan was to tell him and hopefully this time it would actually work. Hopefully no one would get in her way.. like Blake (even if his interruptions always made her smile) or that b***h that Milo use to date.

Fiona's morning started like every other morning, aside from the fact that instead of a crappy futon that was much too small for her she awoke in a bed that was nearly three times the size of what she was use to and didn't have uncomfortable lumps that dug into her back during the night. Although her surroundings were completely different from what she was use to back at Harvard, it took her nearly ten minutes to realize that she didn't have any classes and that there was no point in getting up so early because she had nothing to do. While the bands with whom she was sharing the gargantuan suite she was spending the next few weeks inhabiting were all getting up for their morning rehearsals, she had no prior engagements and could spend the morning as she pleased. Of course it wasn't until she was in the middle of washing her hair that she even realized that she didn't need to be conscious. It wasn't like she couldn't go back to sleep though. It was only eight in the morning and rehearsal lasted for at least a couple of hours, so he wouldn't be back for quite awhile. Which meant there was no point in getting up so early and trying to impress him.. because he wasn't going to be there to impress.

So instead of immediately getting dressed after she stepped out of the shower, or even drying her hair and putting on a bit of make up to make herself look presentable, she just changed into a pair of long plaid pants, a tank top and the robe that was hanging up in her bathroom and made her way downstairs for breakfast. It wasn't so early that the bands were still in the suite but from what she could tell on her way down to the main level of the suite she was the first of the non - band members that were awake. Even the bodyguard, whom she figured would be trailing along silently behind the rock stars wherever they went, was still snoring softly on the couch in the living room. Poor guy didn't even get a bed for himself, but he didn't seem too tore up about it. Then again, he didn't talk enough for Fiona to decide either way. After tiptoeing past the sleeping bodyguard, Fiona snuck into the kitchen and poured herself a bowl of fruit loops, which had always been a treat for her when she was younger. Since money was always tight, the little food that Fiona and her mother had at the house was always off brand. The cereal she ate every morning tasted like cardboard and the milk, well she didn't want to think about that. The only time she ever got a nice breakfast was when she spent the night at Milo's house and his mother cooked for her in the morning.

Just thinking about all of her high school years spent with Milo made a smile come across her face as she ate. A milky, sugar laced smile that probably made her look like someone who enjoyed cereal a little too much but a smile none the less. The past few days, ever since she had gotten the invite for the tour, Fiona had been smiling constantly. Whether she was brushing her teeth and she remembered some random happenstance that had occurred many years prior or she was standing a few feet away from her high school crush and smiling like a goof ball while he wasn't looking. She knew she must seem more than a little strange, what with her borderline obsession with the boy man who had invited her on this tour but Fiona felt she had her entire life to thank him for. If it wasn't for him she'd be much more scarred than she already was and she sure as hell wouldn't be doing so well on her own. Without him she'd still be taking care of her mother instead of off making a life for herself and getting a degree at Harvard. She had so much to thank him for and the whole knight in shining armor concept only added to her infatuation with him. He was the perfect guy, her perfect guy but unfortunately it seemed his heart belonged to someone else.

After Fiona was done with her breakfast and her dirty dishes were shoved into the dish washer with the rest of the dishes (thankfully there weren't too many since someone had decided to do the dishes the previous night), she made her way back by the sleeping bodyguard and up the stairs towards her room. There was no point in staying downstairs when the living room was occupied and no one else was awake, so it was either a nap or a nice hour or so spent doing her hair and make up. She could draw it out that long if need be but it didn't seem like a very entertaining morning to her. Still, in only a few hours she'd be able to see Milo again. Just the thought of it made her skin tingle in anticipation. She was nervous to see him, sure. She was always nervous when she saw him these days. Being gone for two years, pining away for someone who never even knew you had feelings for them tended to do that to a person. With a sigh, Fiona ran a hand through her messy brown hair and raced up the stairs. Running up two flights wasn't exactly exhausting but by the time she reached her room, her heart was beating a little faster than normal. She was never the type to really work out. She ran every morning when she was at school but for the past week or so she had just been lounging around in this suite full of musicians that all seemed much more successful than her.

Once Fiona was safely back in her room, which was incidentally plagued with the same color scheme as her apartment (a mess of browns and tans) , she quickly made her way over to the closet which was nearly as big as her kitchen at home and pulled the large doors open. Since this was the first suite that Fiona had ever stayed in, she was using it to its full advantage. All of her clothes were hung up in the closet, her shoes lining the floor. She had already gone through nearly every drawer and every crevice in the place and she had even fallen asleep on the couch in her room one night when she was waiting on Milo to come back from getting them drinks from downstairs. Of course, she ended up moving to the bed the moment Milo came in and shook her awake. But she had utilized almost everything in that suite and she planned on using it even more in the coming weeks. She wasn't the type who got pampered. She was in college by the grace of god and barely making it by with grants and scholarships. Her part time job at a diner just outside of campus was the only thing that kept her from losing her apartment, so living it up for a few weeks was something she was definitely going to treasure. It might be usual for Milo and his rock star buddies, but Fiona was no rock star and unless Milo mysteriously decided that he couldn't spend anymore time away from her, she doubted she'd be pampered like this again for quite awhile.

It didn't take Fiona nearly as long as she had hoped it would to get dressed. The moment she stepped into her closet, which wasn't even a fourth of the way full, she spotted a gray sweater she hadn't remembered packing and quickly stripped off the clothes she had been wearing previously. It was a long sweater, one that stopped just below her butt and fit her so well that she wondered if it had been made for her. Along with that she pulled on a pair of blue jeans that flared out at the bottom (she was never one to really like those skinny jeans, they were far too restricting). A wide black belt set off the outfit and although she didn't plan to go out anytime soon, she picked out a pair of black heels to go with her outfit for when she did. All in all, she though she looked pretty good but the moment she stepped into the bathroom and her eyes shifted up to her face, that thought was wiped clear and her face formed a slight scowl. Her hair was a complete mess, as it always was after she got out of the shower but she had been stupid enough to let it dry by itself instead of drying it and styling it. Of course, there wasn't much she could do about that now so instead of moaning and groaning Fiona picked up a brush and began working on her hair.

When she was younger, Fiona had never been the type of girl to care about fashion or what the new fad was. She didn't dress up unless it was required and she rarely ever wore make up for the sheer fact that she just couldn't afford it. After she left for college though and began making friends that were the same sex as her, as opposed to the ones she had in high school, she found herself caring more about her appearance. She started wearing make up more and even invested in a curling iron and a blow dryer. The way she was now was a big contrast to the way she had been the last time she saw Milo, but she didn't think it was necessarily a bad change. She just took more pride in herself, cared more than she use to. How was that bad at all? Yet again, it didn't take Fiona long at all to finish up what she had started. Her hair decided that for once, it was going to behave and after a few big curls here and a little make up there, her hair was falling in big ringlets down her back and she was rather proud of herself for being able to make herself look so good. If Milo didn't notice how good she looked today, she might just have to flaunt it in his face a little. They were suppose to be going to some big party after the show tonight. Maybe she could pick up some hot guy there and hope that Milo somehow noticed that she was no longer someone he needed to see as his little sister and that she had grown into a woman worthy of his affections.

"Perfect.." Fiona muttered to herself softly before she turned from the mirror in her bathroom and walked back into the bedroom. She quickly grabbed her cell phone, even though she was sure that no one would call her (it was better to be safe than sorry) and made her way out of the room with her cheap cell phone stuffed into her ten dollar jeans. Fiona was sure than her entire outfit, cell phone and shoes that she wasn't even wearing included, didn't cost half as much as one of these band members ensembles. Her shopping consisted of Walmart and a department store if she got really good tips that week, while there's probably consisted of brand name stores filled to the brim with clothes that cost more than she made in a month. But that was the life of Fiona Quinn. Always second best, never the one on top. Now she could stand there in the hallway, feeling sorry for herself because she was poor and the man she loved wanted someone else but that really wasn't Fiona anymore. That girl had long since died and the new Fiona was one full of smiles, most of the time at least. She tried not to let the bad stuff get her down anymore because she was finally going somewhere in her life and if she got back into that depressing stage of her life again, she might not come back from it.

As she made her way down the winding staircase that led to both the first floor of rooms and then down to the main part of the suite, she bumped into a familiar body and turned to see Naddy looking at her sleepily. "Good morning Sleeping Beauty. Did that prince of yours finally make his move?" Fiona asked, amusement lacing her voice as she flashed the girl a grin and slowed her pace so that she could talk with Naddy on the way down to the main floor. Out of all of the girls here, Naddy was the one Fiona had bonded with the most. They were very much alike, not knowing hardly anyone in the bands and thus being cast off the first day or so while the bands reunited. During the past week Fiona had found something in this girl that seemed to call out to her. They were completely opposite but they somehow bonded. Where Naddy was a little on the wild side, Fiona tended to like a little more structure and less spontaneity. Where Naddy talked more than an excited preteen, Fiona tended to keep to herself unless she felt her input was needed. Naddy did enough talking for the both of them though, so it worked out almost perfectly. It was like a match made in heaven... but Fiona wasn't sure just how long after the concert the friendship would last. But she didn't need to think about that now. They still had three weeks of shopping and swooning over Milo and Mark to do.

"I'm pretty sure I read something about a private jam session yesterday. Please tell me it wasn't just the drums he was banging." She shot the blond a smirk before bursting into a fit of soft giggles as they reached the bottom floor of the suite. It was about time for both bands to come back from their rehearsal which meant that she and Naddy didn't have much time to chat before they had people listening in. So she quickly grabbed a seat at the bar in front of the kitchen and waited for her friend's response. Just as she thought she was going to get it though, the front door to the suite opened and Lottie, the bassist of Milo's band walked in and Fiona shot her a smile. She wasn't on the greatest terms with any of the band members beside Milo and Blake. Most of them just didn't like her at all. While some didn't talk to her at all, others like Jack (who wasn't even a real member of the band) liked to talk to her a bit too much. Of course his form of talking was spewing insult after insult. Fiona was use to it though. Jack was a bully and since she had spent her life being a pretty sorry individual, she was use to being picked on by people who saw her as a weak person. It wasn't like she truly cared about what Jack said, unless he brought Milo into the picture. So she just ignored it and let him do as he pleased. If it made him happy to pick on people who didn't even deserve it than so be it.

Lottie though, there was nothing there that would make the girl hate her. They just didn't talk very much. Fiona wasn't the type of girl to initiate a conversation with someone she didn't know and since Lottie hadn't exactly made the effort, they had spoken maybe two or three words tops to each other. Still, Fiona had manners and she shot the girl a genuine smile as she walked in and made her way into the living room which was thankfully far enough away that Naddy could tell her what had happened with her and Mark without Lottie overhearing. Turning her attention back to the blond before her, Fiona made a gesture with her hands to hurry the girl up and waited once more. She was curious to see if Mark, who Fiona could tell was quite the connoisseur of certain things (mostly women) , had made a move or if it really had been an innocent jam session where Naddy's favorite rock star played for her. There had to be more though and since Fiona was lacking a little in the romance department at the moment, hearing about Naddy's time with Mark was probably going to be the most romance she got all day. Pathetic, yes. But it wasn't like she had anyone who would woo her with his drums like Mark was for Naddy. The one person she had just saw her as a friend. Pathetic indeed.



"blah"
blah
blah


ooc - - -

[longbeard stinkypants]

Text...

[longbeard stinkypants]

tracey fiona wright
work and play they're never okay to mix the way we do

That's right kiddies. The one and only Tracey Wright here. Remember my name because one day, you're going to see it in lights. Plastered all over billboards and on the tongues of anyone who's anybody.

I guess your ready to here about my tragic past. The one the gossip magazines will be itching for the moment I make it big. Well, I hate to burst your bubble but there isn't much in my past that's very tragic. I've lived in the same place my entire life, had the same friends and still own the same dog I did when I was five. It's a cliche, I know. A small town girl with big dreams but these just aren't dreams. Acting is my future. It's the one thing I'm completely passionate about, the one thing I'll never give up. Even if I don't hit it big soon (which is highly unlikely) I'll still be trying when I'm old and gray. It's in my blood. Both of my parents come from artistic backgrounds. My mother is a painter and a damn good one at that. She makes her living off of art classes that she teaches in our garage and selling paintings at art shows. My dad on the other hand came from a family of rather free spirited individuals but he still managed to find himself a job in corporate america. It's a drag but it pays the bills. At least I didn't grow up with parents who tried to make me play sports instead of do the one thing I always wanted.

I grew up wanting to sing. I'd always do my best to get the lead parts in the little musicals we did in elementary school but I never got them and I couldn't figure out why. Once middle school came around, I went out on a limb and joined the schools drama organization instead of chorus and I found my calling. It wasn't music that I longed for at all. I really didn't have the voice for that. it was just being up on that stage, being the center of attention that lured me in. So I stayed in the club through out school and I even joined a few theaters around my town. It took up a lot of my time but it was worth it. Just those few moments in the spotlight were worth all of the sweat, blood and tears that I put into those productions. And now, they're enough to get me into a fine arts institute but I'm not sure if that's what I want. I'm not sure if I want to go through more schooling, if I need to. I'd rather just move to California and try my luck there. But then I'd be leaving my entire life behind. Eighteen years of memories behind me, but a boatload of opportunities before my eyes.

Being on stage is like a drug for me. The rush is fantastic and the only other time I feel it is when I'm with Tyson. Sure, the guy's not my boyfriend and he just so happens to be my boyfriend step - brother but that doesn't mean what I feel isn't amazing. All of the sneaking around and keeping up appearances. All of the chaste kisses and the hidden glances. It's invigorating and really, I could keep it up forever if I could. But all the stress really wears a girl down. I'm pretty sure Trevor has noticed. I mean, we barely even kiss anymore. We hold hands on the rare occasion and when I'm at his house, we either sit in silence or I sneak off to see Tyson while Trevor's in the shower. Our relationship is practically over and I know we can both feel it, but throwing that familiarity aware.. that security blanket just doesn't seem like something I can do right now. Maybe once Tyson figures out his s**t and I figure out mine, but not now. Definitely not now.

While I might seem like a bit of an attention whore (because I am) I'm really not as bitchy as I come off as at times. I'm pretty sweet when I'm not stressed. When it's close to opening time for whichever play I'm in this week, I tend to get a little short with people. I snap at the smallest things and say things that I really don't mean. Thankfully most of my friends know to just ignore me. poor Trevor, he's gotten the worst. As long as I'm not in over my head, I tend to be very down to earth. I'm outgoing, loud and I can't just sit around and do nothing. I'm that girl who constantly has to break the silence when it consumes a room. I'm the girl that is the first to suggest a juvenile game of truth or dare when everyone is bored and the last to think things through before doing them. I'm impulsive and upbeat but I've got moments where I just don't want to be the center of attention. I get jealous very easily and while I don't exactly have trust issues with Trevor, they really come out with Tyson. I care about him, more than I have anyone else and I just can't seem to get things right with him. I'm not an insecure girl. I like how I look and I know anyone would be lucky to be with me (or so I hear) but around him I can't seem to feel like my normal self. He brings out the best and worst in me but I wouldn't give him up for the world. An acting gig? Maybe. But not much else.

Oh wow. I think I just told you everything you needed to know about me without uttering a single lie. that's a new record for me. Not that I'm a compulsive liar or anything. I just like to bend the truth a little, make things interesting. It isn't my fault this town is so boring.

longbeard stinkypants

[longbeard stinkypants]

lololololololololololololololololololololololololololololololololololoololololololI USE TO KNOW THIS BOY WHO TOOK NOTES IN A BOOK

lololololololololololololololololololoolololololoololololololBUT HE RIPPED OUT ALL THE PAGES BEFORE I GOT A LOOK

lolololololololololololololololololololat all the words he scribbled ; at all the lines he filled
lolololololololololololololololololololthe ink stains on his fingers told me he was skilled

birth certificate
▷name and surname: marcus gregory mccoy
▷date and time of birth: march fifteenth, nineteen eighty - three at eleven fifty - two in the morning
▷parents signature on the dotted line: johnathan mccoy and sylvia wilson
▷sex: an individual who pees standing up
▷place of birth: san francisco, california, usa

physical
▷height: six foot three, i got my father's height
▷weight: one hundred - forty seven lbs
▷skin tone: back when i lived in cali, i was one of those guys who always had tanned skin. now though, not so much. i wouldn't call myself pale but i sure as hell don't have the bronze skin i use to
▷eye color: my eyes are by far my best feature. deep blue with a hint of gray depending on how the lights hit them. the ladies seem to love 'em
▷hair color: i've never been the type of person to really enjoy dying my hair. that's for women and frankly, i like my locks the way they are. natural brown, all the way. no gray... yet.

personal
▷nickname: mark, mccoy, hey you
▷sexuality: butt sex was never my thing, so females all the way
▷marital status: ha; definitely single now. nipped that s**t right in the bud
▷starsign: i'm a pisces, but i don't really believe in that zodiac mumbo jumbo
▷religion: riight. who's the greek god of wine? dionysus or something. yeah, i worship him
▷living situation: all by my lonesome. well i have a cat but he doesn't really count as a roommate

psychology
▷ i'm still hung up on my ex - girlfriend, but i'll never admit it out loud. don't ask me why, because i couldn't tell you. she was the worst thing that ever happened to me but i still can't get her out of my mind. so i ********. i've had so much sex just trying to get her out of my mind. so much that the women start melding together. i don't remember their names, can't bring myself to care about their names. they're just tramps anyway. they aren't good enough to be her, but what was so good about her anyway?

▷ ever since my last drink... three months, six days and a few hours ago (but who's counting), i've been horrible irritable. and not my normal irritable where i get annoyed, yell for a bit and then lock myself in my room until i calm down. no, now when i get annoyed it's a full on disaster. i become this complete p***k and it doesn't stop until i realize just how stupid i'm acting. it takes weeks sometimes.

▷ for someone who threw away their life via alcohol, i've got a surprisingly good (albeit lonely) one. i've still got my job, lord knows how that happened. i work in a cubicle, answering phones and typing up status reports until my ears and fingers bleed but i make a pretty penny doing it. my job is the only thing keeping me going at the moment. if i didn't have that, i'd just be sitting in my apartment everyday wishing i could be drinking.. instead of sitting at my desk, making money while i wish i was out drinking.

▷ the moment i meet people, i judge them. don't act like you don't because we all know that you'd be lying. everyone does it, i just own up to it. like that girl who works at the cubicle across from mine, the one that wears the too tight skirts in hopes that someone will finally notice her. i knew she was a slut the moment her eyes met mine. of course, that might be because the first time i even noticed her, we were at a company party and i ended up bending her over in the bathroom while everyone else carried on outside. my girlfriend ex - girlfriend still doesn't know about that.

filler ❝ i think i'm drunk enough to drive you home now ❞
fillerfillerfiller‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾







filler everyone knows . . .
fillerfillerfillerfiller life's a lot easier when you've got a cold one
fillerfillerfill life's a lot easier when you've got girls to help you forget
fillerfilllife's a lot easier when you've got vices
fillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfilltoo bad i've got nothing

fillerfillerfillerfilleryoure so cute when youre slurring your speech
fillerfillerfillerfillerfiller but theyre closing the bar and they want us to leave

march fifteenth , another day to remember.. nothing to help me forgetfillerfillerfiller

to whomever is bored enough to pick this up


today's my birthday. at least it was about two hours ago. now it's just the day after my birthday, but it feels the same.

the big two - six spent with a bottle of ginger ale and a room full of people who'd rather be anywhere but here. it's friday night.. it's my birthday and i'm stone cold sober. life's dull without a cold one. this time last year, i'd be a few sheets to the wind right about now. i'm talking room spinning, vomit inducing, inhibition erasing good times. of course, those days are all gone now that numero uno has bit the bullet. now instead of drinking games or drunk girls who make my nights so much better, i've got ginger ale, a few sober buddies and a chick that looks like she's about ready to fall asleep on my couch. some birthday... it'd be better with a brewsky.

if she was here i'd be drinking. she always makes me drink. little miss perfect with her glasses of wine and her skewed sense of superiority. she's why i drink. listening to her b***h and moan, it'd drive anybody to drink. ❝ marcus did you eat the last of my ice cream? ❞ she forgets i'm lactose intolerant. ❝ marcus did you steal my keys again? ❞ forgetful b***h doesn't realize they're in her own pocket. ❝ marcus are you drinking again? ❞ like she has room to talk. those wine bottles of hers go faster than my liquor bottles ever do. the nagging gives me headaches, but that could also be the booze. i drank to get away from her but it never seemed to work. so i quit to get away from her and now all i can think about is drinking... and her.

it's pathetic, that i'm spending my birthday on my couch not even trying to entertain friends who'd rather be out drinking... instead of staying sober with my dull a**. i don't blame them. i'd rather be out drinking than in my apartment too. but i'm sober, going on how many months now? i can't even remember anymore. it feels like a lifetime. i think it's about time i gave up. yeah, giving up sounds nice.

fillerfillerfillerjust one more drink
fillerfillerfillerjust one little sip
fillerfillerfillerto my health
fillerfillerfillerfilllord knows i need it

lololololololololololololololololololpositive
lolololololololol i spend most of my time without any shoes on, unless of course i have to go out. then it's old tattered tennis shoes or a pair of my father's dress shoes when i'm working. corporate america.. how i hate thee. when i'm not working, i'm either at home vegging on my couch or at the beach. i practically grew up on the beach so it's only natural that i'd stay there. of course, there isn't much of a beach around here. you have to drive pretty far just to see a bit of sand but i'm the type of guy who could spend days driving around with no destination. just give me a few beers, some amazing music and maybe a girl to keep me occupied when i'm bored and i'm set. hell.. give me that anytime and i'm set.

lololololololololololololololololnegative
lolololololololcause i hate the ocean, theme parks and airplanes, talking with strangers and waiting in line. first and foremost, working is by far the worst thing in the world. you have to get up early, drive through boatloads of traffic just to sit at a desk all day and pretend you're actually doing something productive. i know not all jobs are like that, but the ones that i can get are. of course, i'd take work over these damn aa meetings any day. you do not want me to get into that. that s**t has taken away one of the only things i had left in my life, but somehow i've convinced myself that it's for the best. i have to admit, not waking up with a splitting headache and the inability to recall the previous night's activities is a nice feeling.. but walking around sober, ugh kill me now. it's almost as bad as those nasty whores who spend their nights clinging to anything with a pulse, no matter how disease ridden they are. oh wait, that sounds just my ex - girlfriend. (heh; did you see what i did there?).

longbeard stinkypants

lol

[longbeard stinkypants]

rejection.

it stings. it isn't something i'm use to.
usually, i receive a giggle, a little blushing and a timid acceptance.
but not this girl; not this flawless creature.
she doesn't like coffee. she doesn't like me.


but something's off.
even as my wounded puppy dog eyes turn to her.. something isn't right.
she's smiling. smiling like this is all some big joke to her.
as if my ego isn't getting bruised by every move she makes.
she thinks this is funny and i can't help but get mad.

fillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfiller ❝ you don't have to be a b-- ❞

i begin, my anger evident in every syllable i utter.
but she beats me to the punch.
fillerfillerfillerfillercuts me off
i barely hear her when she speaks.
hot chocolate? what does she mean?
then it hits me! she wasn't rejecting me at all.

a toothy grin takes over my features
and i stare at her in awe for a moment.
for the first time in a looooooong time...
fillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfiller i'm happy

fillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfiller ❝ hot chocolate sounds ... ❞

but i'm cut off again.
what is with these people?
can't i just finish one train of thought?!
apparently not because now edie is speaking
and i can tell it doesn't impress dakota at all.


a restaurant?
with edie and dakota?
it sounds perfect, almost too good too be true
probably because it is

i can feel the anger flowing off of dakota in waves
and the sound of her harsh whisper makes me glad i didn't finish my thought earlier
she's mad and edie seems to be challenging her
i try to care but all i can think is...



fillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerholy cat fight
fillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerthis is going to be good


the looks on dakota's face is murderous
even as she peers ↑ UP ↑ at me.
i can tell she doesn't want to go.
it doesn't take a genius to come to that conclusion.
but i'm intrigued. i want to see where this will go.
i know if i leave with her now, i'll get lucky.
i also know if we leave with edie things will get more than interesting.
it's just a matter of which i want more...

fillerfillerfillerfillera** or entertainment ?

it isn't a hard decision.
i can get a** anytime. granted, it won't be dakota's but i can live with that.
cat fights don't come around as often, at least not for me.
so i smile ↓ DOWN ↓ at dakota
and slip my arm around those tiny shoulders of hers.
then i speak and hope to whatever deity is listening...
that dakota doesn't kill me too.

fillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfiller ❝ that's fine with me. you down? ❞

i turn my attention from edie to dakota
and arch one of my bushy eyebrows in a quizzical manner.
if i play dumb, which i'm very good at doing..
then maybe she'll think i didn't see the rivalry between them.
maybe there's a chance for both a** and entertainment tonight.



fillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfiller ❝ ❞

fillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfiller ❝ ❞


fillerfillerfillerfiller

[longbeard stinkypants]

Decapitation. Suffocation. And now, poison.

Alexander Roukey had started this book, his latest masterpiece, as an assignment to submit with a few of his college applications but unlike nearly everything else in his life, it didn't go off as planned. Somehow the story got into the wrong hands (via his blog, no doubt). Alex knew all too well how impressionable people could be but never had he ever so much as imagined his story would cause this. He never thought that he'd be the cause of a death, let alone two in the same week. It was a surreal feeling, thinking that just by writing he was signing his classmates death certificates. But Alex was determined to change this. Even though the story had long since been finished, and nearly everyone written in it deceased, he was certain he'd turn this around. It was his fault that all of this was happening after all, so he felt it was his duty to end it. Hopefully before anyone else got hurt. He didn't want anymore blood on his hands, or at the tip of his pen. He just wanted to find whoever this killer was and put him where he belonged, and try to get back to his life. But that wouldn't exactly happen without him figuring out who was behind this in the first place which was proving rather difficult. Everyone and their mother read his blog, from all over the place. It would take him ages to narrow it down.. so instead of seeking out the killer that way he figured he'd bring the killer to him.

So instead of going into school for the sheer purpose of furthering his knowledge, Alex made his way into school just so that he could gather up the eight people he had included in his story and make sure nothing else happened. There was no doubt in his mind just how difficult that would be, given the next method of murder was an unpredictable one. The next victim could be poisoned in a number of ways. Via food, touching something or even breathing it in. There wasn't much hope for the little backstabber in Alex's mind, unless of course they caught the killer before she got poisoned. He didn't like thinking so negatively, especially when it involved someone's life, but there wasn't much hope for any of them if this killer didn't start messing up. The police, detectives and Alex were all stumped. Denver had it's share of murders, just like every other city in the United States.. but none had been this premeditated before. None were this exact or as void of evidence as this case seemed to be. All they had were a few shoe prints that might or might not be from the killer. There were no fingerprints, no hairs at the crime scenes and no suspects. Aside from Alex of course... but it was evident that he wasn't the one doing all of this. He wasn't twisted enough for that.

Currently, Alexander was stuck in a room full of the very people he had put in harm's way. He was pacing, as he usually did when he was anxious and stressed, with his eyes on the floor and his mind wandering around elsewhere. His hands seemed to have a mind of their own and went from being shoved into the pockets of his slightly baggy blue jeans to running through his messy brown hair. He looked like complete hell. His eyes were dark and it looked as if he hadn't slept in days, which he hadn't. His outfit showed just how little he seemed to care about how he looked and his face bore the evidence of someone who hadn't bothered to pick up a razor in a few days. He looked just like he felt though. Miserable, stressed, completely worn out and a little on the cuckoo side. While he knew his scruffy appearance probably wasn't what his fellow classmates wanted to see, he just couldn't bring himself to bother with the normalcies of everyday life at the moment. He showered and brushed his teeth, made sure he wore clean clothes but that was the extent of his efforts. Other than that his mind was solely on this book, on this case. On figuring out who was doing this and how he was going to stop them before every one of the people sitting in Mr. Walker's classroom on the English hall were six feet under.

It was surprising that the soles of his shoes weren't wearing down thanks to the repetitive motion he was making. Five steps towards the door, swivel and then five steps the opposite way. He knew how mental he looked, he knew that nearly every eye in the room was more than likely on him but he just didn't care. He was trying to think, trying to figure out their next move. So far the only thing he could think of was to skip town, to pile everyone into his mother's minivan and just drive. But that wouldn't work to well. Surly there would be a few disagreements about going elsewhere to possibly die. If it were him, he'd rather die in his home town than some strange new one. So traveling was out, as was just waiting around for everyone to be killed. It wasn't until he was all out of ideas that Alex even bothered to pause his movements and look at the classroom full of people whose lives he had royally messed up. Some of them looked scared, while others didn't seem to even believe. Some looked ready and a few just looked bored with all of this. With a sigh and another hand through his short brown locks, Alex let his eyes flow over to the door of the classroom. Through the glass he could see a few students peering in and smiling. It was like the entire school thought this was some big joke, that none of it was real to them. If their lives were in danger, if it was their fault that people were dying.. then maybe they'd stop laughing and start helping.

This was it. The end of Alex trying to fix this all by himself. The end of him trying to play the hero. While he felt it was his responsibility to fix this mess that he had put everyone in, the fact of the matter was he just couldn't do it by himself. He had no idea what to do, none what so ever, and he had spent the last few days in a living hell. He barely ate, slept like he did when he was writing (which was barely two hours a night) and didn't utter a word to anyone unless he was talking to himself and they happened to overhear him. Or of course, he was spewing out apology after apology. He just couldn't seem to forgive himself, even when most of the people whose lives were on the line had done so. Focusing his attention back on the room, Alex made his way to a stool sitting in from of the board and practically collapsed back onto it. " So, I bet you're wondering why I hoarded you all together. " He began, his voice sounding a little odd in his own ears after such a time. It was raspy and didn't at all sound like his usual tone. He tried his best to smile as he spoke though and managed a small one, which was much more than he had imagined he would. " Well... I figured since the police seem pretty stumped over this whole situation, that maybe we could take matters into our own hands. " At least he didn't dream of being a public speaker when he grew up. Being a little popular never prepared one for such things, like speaking to a group of people who might all be dead in a matter of a few days.

" The truth is.. " He began again, after a pregnant pause. " I'm completely lost as to what to do. I've gone over every page of that damn story, hoping it would clue me into something. " His deep blue eyes were no longer focused on the group as a whole, or even darting through them. His eyes were focused everywhere except those prying eyes. On his own hands, the clock that hung in the back of the classroom, a poster of Shakespearean quotes on Mr. Walker's wall. Anywhere but those eyes. " I need your help. I don't think I can fix this without it. " He admitted, rather reluctantly. Even though Alex was very in touch with his own emotions, even though he felt he could read anyone.. he was still a man and he still didn't like admitting that he needed help. It was like the whole stopping for directions complex, except it wasn't a town they were lost in... it was one of Alex's novels.


" blah " blah blah .
a writer is only as good as his own experiences

❝ writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia ❞