No Posting

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

This is for my ideas.
Do not steal.
Do not post.

other profiles:

Hazari Morioka
Calyx
Nikita Mukainakano
Kazuki Sakurai
Zo
Zo v.2
Tadao
Chu
Anka Kudo
character summaries

other posts:

Addy (glass rage)
Shia (ai nante)

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

⌈x-x-x-x-x-x-BLANKTWOx✸BLANKTWOx-x-x-x-x-x-x⌉

⌜BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKxxx⌝x⌜BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKxxx⌝

xxxx

⌞BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKxxxi⌟x⌞BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKxxxi⌟

✸BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKTWO✸

❝xxძ і ѕ с ο m αxx❞

✗BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANK Hαʑαгї Պօгїօӄα----❚ ❚ ❚----

⌊x-x-x-x-x-x-BLANKxTWO✸BLANKTWOx-x-x-x-x-x-x⌋

U p ԁ а т є TWO•TWO ℰѕℂÅp℮

ʟøɢɪč BLANKxx•••

BLANKBLANKBLANKl o n l i n e s s

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✸BLANKTWO✸BLANKTWO✸BLANKTWO✸

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

Уцц ❖ "Мїик" ❖ Ҭакєї.

It's the label of romantica


мy ιdєитιfcαтιoи

my name happens to be Yuu Takei
so, that pretty much means to call me Mink
did you know that I am ni juu sai (twenty)?
oh, and I was born on 6 October
the doctor diagnosed me to be a bishi, baby
and I enjoy the company of the pretty ladies
at this moment, I am exactly 167 centimeters


how ι αcт, тαkє ιт oя lєαvє ιт

Where to start? There’s so much to say. I guess I’ll start with the obvious: I’m a pretty happy guy. That’s my default emotion and there’s really nothing in the world that can upset me too badly. In other words, I’m happy almost all the time, but that doesn’t mean I’m annoying. I’m pretty mellow, actually. I don’t take anything seriously. Life’s too short to waste away unhappy. I take life as it is and enjoy every moment of it. Sure, I can be cynical every now and then, but I’m human. I have my flaws. I prefer to look on the bright side of life though. Also, I have the tendency to be rebellious. I’m not stupidly rebellious though. I don’t do things just because I was told not to. That’s too stressful. You have to over-think everything you’re told, and then you end up never doing anything you wanted to during your life. I consider myself an independent person, too. Most of the lessons I’ve learned, I learned through trial and error. I do things on my own and I’m capable of taking care of myself. I don’t like to rely on people, but that doesn’t mean I’m a loner. I actually love to socialize. It’s energizing meeting new people, I think, and it’s fun to be in huge groups. Like… parties and concerts and stuff. I don’t usually distinguish much between girls and guys in the ways I treat them, but now that I’ve come to America, I’ve had to limit my more… affectionate actions to girls only. Apparently if you just touch another guy while in America, you’re automatically called gay. I’m not, and I don’t want to jeopardize my chance with the foreign ladies. When it comes to intelligence, I’ll openly admit that I’m probably not the brightest bulb out there. Quite frankly, I’ve never liked school. I didn’t go on to upper-secondary school because I failed the entrance exams. I’m much more musically inclined. I know how to play several different instruments, and I’d like to learn more. It comes naturally to me. I actually don’t like to sing though, despite the fact that I’ve been told my voice carries well. That reminds me… when I talk, I have the tendency to get really loud and use my hands a lot when I’m excited.


мy pαsт, ιи α иuтshєℓℓ

I was born to a well-off, middle class family in Wakayama, Japan. My father was the head of a phone company and my mother took care of the house. My older sister, Nami, and I generally stayed out of her way during the day, but we all came together in the evening for family time. A typical family, I guess, so there's not really much to say. When my sister got a little older though, she developed a fondness for housework. She began helping our mother out with the cleaning, cooking, etcetera. Unfortunately, that left me with not much to do. After all, girl's work doesn't exactly appeal to me, you know? My parents became obsessed with Nami though. They went on about how she would make a wonderful wife for some lucky man. Whatever. However, my father set me to work on the piano when I was four. I wasn't particularly fond of being forced to learn it, so I complained frequently at first. That's not to say I didn't like the piano. Actually, I really enjoyed it, but of course I wasn't going to admit that to my parents. By the time I was seven, I knew a wide variety of songs to play for any occasion. My mother loved listening to them.

Rewinding a little, I was sent to a public school at an early age. My sister, on the other hand, received private tutoring, which I felt was a great injustice. At school, I complained about it to anyone who would listen. At the time, I thought Nami was allowed to goof off and have fun. Despite my complaints though, I managed to make friends quickly and easily. As I neared the age of ten, I spent more time at my friends' houses than my own home, and I neglected my homework. It didn't take long for my friends to stop doing their homework, too, and our school was on the brink of a revolution (some of us had begun to "modify" our uniforms) before the superintendent asked my parents to transfer me to another school. They were infuriated by my behavior and thought that a transfer would teach me a lesson. Of course, I gain friends pretty quickly in the new school, too. What can I say? I'm a likable guy. I became rebellious as well. I stopped listening to my parents if their instructions didn't appeal to me. Eventually, they learned to just let me do what I wanted, knowing I'd learn right from wrong through my mistakes, which I did... eventually.

At age eleven, I took interest in the standing bass. My father happily bought me one and supplied me with lessons, hoping it would keep me out of trouble. I was pretty lazy in school, but I was diligent and hard-working with things that I actually liked (like music). I took pride in my ability to play the bass, which was a skill few of my classmates knew as I entered lower secondary school. I was pretty popular, and my flirty nature drew girls to me. Of course, I broke many hearts because I never really loved anyone in that way. My academic work wasn't exactly the most impressive, so popularity was really all I had going for me.

Now... the origin of my nickname is a little strange. One day in English class (a class I paid little attention in and usually spent more time talking to my friends than listening to the teacher), a girl was, uh... stroking my hair and remarked that it felt as soft as an expensive coat her mother owned. She couldn't think of the material it was made of, and both of our English was pretty bad, so she said the first word that came to her mind: Mink. We joked about it at first, but eventually the name stuck. At first, mainly girls called me Mink, but after awhile, I thought it would be cool to have an English-sounding name, so I began referring to myself that way.

Near the end of lower secondary, I took an interest in modern music. Of course my parents didn't like that. I wanted to become a rockstar. My mind was more set than concrete. I learned to play the bass guitar pretty quickly, and, from that, the electric guitar. I loved it all. I began to play on keyboards rather than the classic piano my parents had kept for decades. I learned to create music with synthesizers and computers, and even composed a few simple songs. My father didn't bother hiding his disappointment. He wanted me to become a respectable man and take over the company. My mother pleaded that, if nothing else, I at least take up computer programming. Psh, like I'd do that. Everyone does that as a fall-back. I did make a deal with my mother though. I told her that I'd continue on to higher learning ONLY if I passed the entrance exams. Of course, I didn't. Honestly, I didn't even try, but I faked it pretty well, I think. My mother gave up and let me pursue music without further interference, although my dad was still upset.

Two of my friends from school decided to join me in making my first band: Rubber Rock. We were a heavier sounding rock band, and we gained decent popularity for such a fresh group. I wasn't exactly satisfied with it. It didn't sound good enough to me, so I dropped out and experimented on my own for awhile. I found that I preferred electronic sounds, so I opened up a search again for new members. Three new musicians quickly agreed and we formed the band PuraPura Kokoro. I played synthesizer and lent my voice for back-up whenever necessary. The vocalist played guitar and we had a jazz bassist and a heavy rock drummer. The outcome was a happier, poppier sound. I liked this direction, but the line-up didn't stay the same for long. Our drummer dropped out. The vocalist exchanged his guitar for the drums and I took both guitar and keyboards. We became much more electronic, so we changed our name to Synthetic Inorganic. I was pretty comfortable with the band at this point, but all we needed was a way to gain more popularity. I proposed we travel to New York.


αиd, doи'т foяgєт тhιs

ι ℓιkє;
✯ Dance music
✯ Parties
✯ Cool weather
✯ Unique clothing
✯ Playing music
✯ Video games
✯ Taiyaki
✯ Foreign women
✯ Asahi beer
✯ Anything with unagi
ι dιsℓιkє;
✖ Humidity
✖ Moldy bread
✖ Hard water
✖ Flavored water
✖ Tako
✖ Speaking English
✖ Bad concerts
✖ Boring people
✖ Hip hop or rap music
✖ Too much black
вuт ι fєαя;
☹ Screwing up badly in a concert
☹ Accomplishing nothing in life


fιиαℓℓy

my posting color is; #0066FF
and I am puppeted by; x-Tariraritarara-x

The ❖ End

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

Տрєʟʟ тнє тɾuє sнɑpє ɵʄ ɾєɑʟїтყx•••

╓BLANKxxx┄┄┄xxxx✺xxxx┄┄┄BLANKxxx╖




Hello~
Most people call me Tari. But I'll answer to anything if I know you're talking to me.
I used to role play a lot, but I'm rather busy in school nowadays, and it's hard sometimes to find role plays that suit my interests.
I'd like to consider myself a role play veteran.
I love music, though I can be a little bit of an elitist.
I love Japanese music, but not much Visual Kei.
My favorite bands are not very well-known overseas. I love cali≠gari, Plastic Tree, and goatbed.
I have a soft spot for dance/techno music. 80s new wave and disco music, too.
I play bass and I'm learning to play the theremin. I want to work with synthesizers soon.
I'm perhaps one of the few people in the world who doesn't have a Facebook.
I love learning about mental disorders. I want to become a psychiatrist.
Most of my role play characters have some sort of mental issue... just as a warning.
I can speak, read, and write Japanese.
I don't like anime or manga. I think it's childish and dorky.
I love modern chic and haute couture, and I'm very conscious about my own style. I also like 80s fashion.

That's it for now!




╙BLANKxxx┄┄┄xxxx✺xxxx┄┄┄BLANKxxx╜

BLANK

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

Jeaki Song

Jae

I was born on

March 3rd

So that makes me

Seventeen

I'm in this hell hole because

Honestly, I’m not quite sure how I got here. I don’t really remember anything about my life. Sad, I know. I like to wonder about it though. The imagination is a great thing. Maybe I was a prince? Maybe my parents were famous inventors? If you ask me about my childhood more than once, chances are you’ll hear different stories. If I can’t remember it, I can have fun recreating it, can’t I? I think I’m a little off-topic though. I might as well be honest and tell you what I can remember. Let’s see… When I was thirteen, I remember waking up in a hospital. My right hand and right leg were both in casts, my head and chest both hurt pretty badly, and I couldn’t see out of my left eye. Scary, right? Believe it or not, I wasn’t really scared. I was curious. I didn’t know what was going on, who I was, or where I was. When a nurse came into my room to check on me, I tried to ask her my questions, but she gave me a funny look and said something I didn’t quite understand. I tried again, but she gave me the same look and left. That made me pretty angry, so I tried to get out of bed and follow her, but I couldn’t move very well. I was practically strapped to the bed. She returned shortly with another woman who spoke to me instead. I could actually understand her, so I asked her my questions. Unlike the other nurse, this one was much more helpful. She told me that I was in a hospital. An older man had brought me in a few nights ago and told the staff that he had found me stumbling along the side of a road in the middle of nowhere, bleeding pretty badly and wheezing with every breath. He didn’t stick around though and left as soon as he knew I was in good hands. I remembered a little of that. I remembered the man mumbling something I didn’t understand, but he didn’t seem very happy. He was a very old man, too, and wore an old military jacket. But I’m getting off-topic again. The nurse wouldn’t tell me the extent of my injuries at first. I guess she was afraid it would freak me out or something. I was persistent though. She told me that I was lucky I hadn’t sustained any serious injuries. My arm and leg would heal quickly, considering I was young, and sight would return to my eye after a few days. Something did, however, puncture one of my lungs, so she told me that I might have asthma for the rest of my life. She asked me a few questions about my family and anything I could remember before waking up, but I could only tell her about the old man. She told me that I had sustained a head injury as well, which caused the blindness in my left eye and affected my memory. She assured it would return in a few days, but it never did. Even after I could see again and my leg and arm healed, I still couldn’t remember anything. Some of the nurses told me it was better that way. By this time, I was already learning a little English. I still spoke mainly with the Korean nurse though.

A few days after I was brought to the hospital, a tour bus was found flipped over off a cliff side. The nurses assumed that that’s where I came from. The passengers consisted mainly of Asian families touring the United States. They were all dead though. I was deemed the sole survivor of the accident, and they thought that they’d be able to figure out my parents from that, but even after running blood and DNA tests, they couldn’t find a match. I like to think, if my parents were on the bus, that they had escaped like I had. The nurses let me think that.

As for my name, I had a bag with a few things it in. Most of them had the name “Jeaki” written on them. It was assumed that that was my name, but they couldn’t find a last name. I liked to sing to myself-- or to anyone, really—so the nurses called me Jeaki Song, or just Jae. Yeah, it was one or the other. They rarely called me just Jeaki. It had to have Song attached to the end of it. The nurses all loved me. They often said that my name portrayed the cheeriness that embodied my person. I did very much enjoy staying in the hospital. I sometimes hoped my leg wouldn’t heal. But when it did, and I was healthy again, the nurses told me I couldn’t stay in the hospital anymore, so I was sent to Healing Hearts Orphanage. It was a sad day, but a few of the nurses promised that they would visit when they could. It wasn’t until I got a little older did I wonder why they hadn’t just adopted me or something. They all had children of their own, I guess.

When I came to Healing Hearts, I was a little resentful at first. I wanted to go back to the hospital. Although the orphanage was so much bigger and better than the little hospital, I didn’t see anything good about it. It took a few months before I actually settled down. It really isn’t a bad place.

Like the nurses said when I was thirteen, I do have asthma. I also have an immunodeficiency, which wasn’t realized until the nurses noticed it took longer than usual for my broken bones to heal. It’s nothing terrible though. I’m not Bubble Boy. I get sick easier than most people though, and infections tend to last longer, but it’s not really much of a threat to my life. Sure, I have to me careful around really deadly and contagious diseases, but that’s about it. Of course, I have an obnoxious nurse (nothing like the nurses at the hospital) constantly nagging me at the orphanage.

I could be described as

Cheerful I think is the best word. I’m happy 99 per cent of the time. I like smiling and laughing. Your face feels good after you’ve been smiling for a long time. I’m also pretty free-spirited. I do what I want whenever it pleases me. I don’t intentionally try to disobey rules. Most of the time I don’t even know there are rules. I’ve been called absentminded because of that. I guess that’s true. I’ve also been told that I almost always have this “head in the clouds” feel about me. Hey, you can have all sorts of fun with your imagination. And don’t tell me make-believe is just for children. In my opinion, I think kids have the right idea. Everything is better when you see your own reality. Um, what else? Oh, so I mentioned that I’m happy 99 per cent of the time, well… the other one per cent of the time is usually when I’m angry. I don’t like to admit it, but I do have a temper. A pretty fiery one, too. Luckily, it takes a lot to make me angry. Anything else? I’m pretty outgoing. I’ll talk to just about anyone, especially if they look lonely. I’m kind of a loner myself though. It’s really strange. I don’t like seeing people by themselves, yet I spend most of my time by myself. Also, I don’t really like having a nurse nag me about what I can and cannot do, so I usually just tune her out. That’s another thing: I don’t like it when I can’t have fun. Doing drugs and just running outside are two completely different things. Running isn’t going to hurt me, even if I do have asthma. I’ll stop only when I can’t breathe.

My bestest buddy

None

I could not live without

♥ Crisp autumn mornings – It feels so good to be outside on days like that. It’s cool, but everything is bright and clear.
♥ Kids – Sometimes I think I fit in better with children than teenagers. I guess I’m trying to relive the childhood I can’t remember.
♥ Music – I wouldn’t be able to live without music, even if it’s just in my head. Life needs a soundtrack.
♥ Singing – It’s the best way to let the world know how you’re feeling, and it feels good, too.
♥ My imagination – Even if you don’t have any friends and the world looks grey, you can create an entirely better world for yourself with only your mind. I spend most of my time in my own world, which I guess explains why I’m usually by myself.
♥ Talking – I like to talk, but I warn you: I talk pretty fast. I’ve been told I act like a hyperactive kid. I guess it’s true. When I’m having a conversation, I tend to change the subjects without warning.

I am disgusted by

✖ Storms – Is it lame to admit that thunder and lightning make me jumpy?
✖ Sitting still – Maybe I have ADHD after all.
✖ Kids – I know I just said that I like kids, but I don’t like the ones that scream all the time, or the ones that act like brats.
✖ Summertime – I like to swim and do summer stuff, but I hate the heat. I prefer autumn because I like to bundle up in comfy sweaters.
✖ My nurse – I already mentioned that I don’t like her telling me what I can and cannot do. She’s always somewhere nearby, too!
✖ Asthma – It does prevent me from doing a lot of fun things.

My crush is

No one at the moment. Honestly, I’m pretty oblivious to that kind of stuff.

Something you should know about me is

I can speak Korean fluently, though I’m getting a little rusty since no one else really speaks to me in Korean. The tests from the hospital also revealed that I’m half-Japanese. I can speak a little of that, too, but I have no one else to talk to.

My Master

x-Tariraritarara-x

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

❝ ѡiʟʟ yӧu mɑkє тнє s u n ɾ i s є fӧɾ mє ? ❞

✷BLANKBLANKBLANK✷BLANKBLANKBLANK✷

The forest was quiet. Tranquility lay upon it like a blanket. Only the gentle rustle of the underbrush and an occasional staccato sung by a passing bird interrupted the numbing silence. Sunlight filtered through the vibrant canopy overhead to cast warm pools of light upon the grassy meadow, already carpeted by an overlay of bright red and yellow leaves. The sound of susurrant leaves broke the stillness to create a soft rhythm to the melody of chirps. A boy, no older than seventeen, shuffled his feet, his eyes downcast to watch the leaves as they were kicked up with each movement. A smile danced on his lips and his eyelashes spread, dark and soft, on his cheeks. He wore a hooded jacket, mottled by a variety of colors, with his hands shoved into the front pockets. Falling leaves attached themselves to the cloth, but the boy paid them little mind. His feet carried him to the base of a prodigious tree, which he stopped in front of and tilted his head back. Golden light streaked across his face and shimmered in his charcoal eyes, producing a warm chocolate in the blackness. His lips puckered and he began to whistle a playful, lighthearted tune. When he paused to listen, his song was echoed and a brightly colored head poked itself out from one of the holes in the tree. The boy whistled again, continuing the melody and coaxing the beautiful bird of paradise, trailing tail feathers and all, out of its nest. He smiled softly. The creature sat like a monument on a branch and watched him with curious eyes. It inhaled to call out the rest of the song, but instead of a beautiful sound, it screeched loudly. The boy, wide-eyed, took a step back. The bird screeched again. And again.

And again.

Jeaki Song scowled in his sleep; his eyes wrenched tightly shut and his mouth in a deep frown. He rolled over and swiped a hand over his ear. An eyelid cracked open. An alarm? Carlos slept on the bunk opposite his own and Jae could see the sheets tossing fitfully as the younger boy fought to detangle himself. He watched with curiosity, though with only one eye. What’s he doing up so early? he wondered. Although Jae didn’t sleep as late as regular teenagers, he would never choose six in morning to wake up. Perhaps seven or eight, but never six. Not unless it was important, at least. The other boy’s behavior intrigued him. Did he have important business to attend to? Dressed in sports clothes? Jae opened both eyes. He was going to ask Carlos what he was up to, but decided against it. It wasn’t his business.

When the door slammed shut, Jae pushed himself up with his elbow. He could hear the bouncing of the basketball as it jumped each step of the staircase. He’s trying to wake everyone, isn’t he? He shook his head and ran his fingers through his thick, and rather messy hair. It needed a good brushing. But was he ready to get up yet? He yawned and stretched his arms as high as he could over his head to touch the bottom of the bunk above him. He was awake; he might as well get the day started. He tossed the sheets off and turned to let his legs dangle off the side of the bed. It was hot this morning. I wish fall would hurry up and get here. He sighed and let his bare feet touch the thinly carpeted flooring. He padded to the end of his bed, his oversized pajama bottoms dragging. A bag sat at the end, which he dug out his clothes from, and changed quickly on the spot. He tugged a sleeveless white shirt over his head and pulled on a pair of distressed jeans. A thin black jacket hung from the pole of his bed. He wore it almost habitually during the summer, despite the heat. He hated wearing just plain shirts, but it wasn’t like he had anything to hide. He was a well-built young man, though not muscular. He was lean and slender, and of a decent height. Some called him feminine, but he really didn’t mind that. Exhaling, he took his brush and walked to stand in front of the mirror. His hair was a mess. There was absolutely no denying that. So he would tame it. He raked the brush through his hair until the tangles were removed and it laid flat again. Well, as flat as he could get it.

Jae didn’t bother double-checking himself in the mirror. He wasn’t obsessed with his image, so one look was enough. Smiling softly to himself, he made his way to the door and exited the room, without shoes. He didn’t need them if he wasn’t going to leave the building, right? And even if he was, it was summertime. Who wore shoes in the summer anyway? He didn't. His stomach was already beginning to ache, so food would be necessary soon. He wondered if anyone else was awake. Pausing at the top of the stairs, he listened carefully to the silence. Voices made their way up to his ears. He couldn’t exactly tell who they belonged to, but it gave him reason enough to join them in the kitchen. He hopped down the stairs, two at a time, until he landed at the bottom. He hadn’t made much noise. He made sure of that. He wasn’t sure if anyone else would want to be woken so early.

”Good morning,” he greeted cheerfully, a smile stretched upon his lips. The kitchen was rather busy for being so early in the morning. ”Did Carlos wake you all up?” he asked with a light laugh. His eyes drifted to Elizabeth when he caught the whiff of fresh-baked pancakes. His smile broadened. "Those look delicious. You're not going to keep them all to yourself, are you?"

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[x-Tariraritarara-x]

my name isL a i -Y i n g H o n d a

shall I introduce myself?

My name is Lai-Ying Honda, but I rather be called Olivia, please. I was born on July 7th, eighteen years ago. Of course I am a girl that enjoys dating gorgeous men.

A little about myself.

Olivia's mother, Siu-Kao, and her mother's older brother, Shuk-Yee, lived on the Hwang farmland in Southeastern Asia. Both were much too concerned with becoming successful in life than working in the fields. They shared the same dream-- they wanted to advance in the medical career. They had studied for ten years together, but could only practice on the wounded and sick villagers. Loki's mother, Suttida, thought it worthless to only study all the time without advancement. There was not a facility of higher learning for miles. When Suttida sent Shuk-Yee away, however, he spent most of his time searching for a medical school to attend, even if he would never be able to convince his wife to let him learn. Siu-Kao came with him and met a handsome young doctor from America who had come to teach in one of the universities. They fell in love. He showed her the better life cities brought, which made her decide to never return to the rural village from which she had come. Several months later, Shuk-Yee made his trip back to his village without his sister, who had become pregnant and was enrolled in a nursing class. When he discovered the crime his wife had committed against him, he took all of his money and possessions and left.

Both Shuk-Yee and Siu-Kao were blessed with intelligence and determination. They had studied medicine for years, and the diploma from the university came easily to them. When Siu-Kao's boyfriend, Doctor Takao Honda, told her that he would be returning to the United States soon, Siu-Kao wished to come along. Takao was a good-hearted young man born to a white woman and a Japanese man, both doctors as well. He could tell that Siu-Kao hated living in China (plus, she was carrying his child), so he agreed to have her come along. They would be married in California. Shuk-Yee traveled with them, having no other family to go to.

Olivia's mother was of an indeterminate race, but had prominent traces of Korean, Vietnamese, and Chinese. When Olivia was born, she had the most beautiful features of each nationality. Siu-Kao named her Lai-Ying-- "Little Beauty"-- in her native language, Cantonese. Takeo gave her the English name Olivia, after his mother, to allow her to blend in better.

Growing up, Olivia learned both Cantonese, to speak to her mother and uncle in, and a little Japanese, which she learned from her grandfather. Her uncle took a house down the street and served as something like a second guardian. He became a workaholic though, so Olivia rarely saw him; however, she talked regularly with him over the phone. Her mother took only three years off work to care for her, but returned as soon as those years were up. Olivia spent a lot of time entertaining herself, but her parents supplied her with anything she wanted. She was a very happy, though materialistic child at first. She loved being spoiled.

As she grew older, she made plenty of friends in school, but didn't realize it was simply because she had a lot of money and was pretty. Most talked badly about her when her back was turned, but in a way, she deserved it. She was a bossy and demanding girl, and drove most people crazy.

At thirteen, her family decided to move to a bigger house in a nice, well-kept community. Olivia's uncle was reluctant, but the reason didn't surface until later. Twelve years prior, he had received the news of his ex-wife's death. Out of respect, though he was still deeply hurt by her unfaithfulness, he came to her death ceremony where he learned that her child was alive, but without parents. Shuk-Yee saw him only once. Min Kyung Hwang was a malnourished, sickly young boy. Shuk-Yee hid his identity for fear of being forced to take the child. When asked his connection with Suttida, he simply said she was an old friend. Though slightly guilty, he assured himself that Min Kyung would be well taken care of, so he returned to America. The guilt gnawed at him for two years though. When it became unbearable, he decided to go back and check on the boy. He learned from the agency that he had been adopted just recently by an American couple. He asked for their names and address, but could only get their last name and the neighborhood (and state) they lived in for privacy purposes. He assured the worker that he would cause no trouble and thanked her for the information. As the years passed, the thought of Min Kyung dwelled on his mind, as much as he wished it would go away. He felt it was his fault his wife had died.

Back to the present: When the Hondas moved, Shuk-Yee went on a jog around the neighborhood. He had managed to push the plaguing thoughts from his mind until he saw a rather sad-looking Asian boy sitting on the steps of a house a few blocks away from his own. He wore a hat so that his face was shadowed, but Shuk-Yee felt intrigued by him. He slowed enough as he passed the house to catch a glimpse of a middle-aged white woman coming outside to console the boy. Shuk-Yee ran home with both anxiety and excitement. After several weeks, he was sure the boy was Min Kyung. He told Siu-Kao, whose bitterness towards Suttida surfaced at first, but then she proposed the idea to let Olivia meet him.

The meeting was successful for the parents, who bonded quickly and enjoyed the company of one another, but not so much for the children. Olivia showed nothing but disgust and mockery for Loki, who took every insult, though he occasionally bit back with a caustic remark of his own. Olivia couldn't believe she was related to him (she was unaware that she wasn't actually blood-related). He wasn't handsome. He wasn't smart nor talented. He was an outcast and Olivia treated him as such whenever their parents forced them together. Olivia openly complained and hated him, but deep down she was possessive and over-protective, and wished she could make him experience the "happiness" she felt for being so pretty and rich.

When Olivia was fifteen, the rude words whispered behind her back for so many years reached her ears and she finally realized her friends were not her friends at all. At school one day, she engaged in a verbal fight with her former friends, but was easily beaten and soon abused. Loki selflessly stood up to defend her, despite being verbally abused himself. Instead of being thanked by Olivia, however, she hated him for it. That was the last time he would stand up for her, and later she would regret her actions towards him.

I'm one of a kind

Olivia is the typical snooty rich girl. She turns her nose up at those she considers lower than herself and hates being seen with "freaks." Although she doesn't like the outcasts, the only one she openly treats badly is Loki because she's not afraid of what he could do to her. She simply ignores the others she doesn't like. Being thought of as non-existent is a much worse feeling than the feeling of being insulted, right? If anyone treats her badly, however, her vengeful nature surfaces. The wrong-doer will usually wish he had kept his mouth shut. Olivia shows no mercy. Like a royal monarch, she commands only the utmost respect and obedience. And most people let her continue with her fantasy simply because it would be a waste of time to knock her down.

When someone of higher status steps onto the scene, Olivia puts on her best behavior. She becomes a smooth-talker and a flirt to win the person over with excessive flattery. Amazingly enough, she does have a way with words. From a young age, she had always been charismatic, and it paid off in the long run. When it comes to boys, she is even more of a flirt. If she sets her eyes on one, she won't let anything get in her way-- not even her friends. She's notorious for her backstabbing tendencies, which has lost her many friends along the way. Most of her relationships don't last long, however. She expects her boyfriends to spoil her with love and gifts like her parents do, but most can't and nor do they want to. What she doesn't realize is that most boys want to be with her simply because she's beautiful and nothing else. She's something of a "trophy." If a boy cheats on her, or even thinks about it, Olivia's jealous and vengeful side comes out. Her grudges are long and severe, so heartbreakers beware. Despite it, she herself is a heartbreaker. She'll cheat on her boyfriend without a second thought.

Deep down, she longs to belong and feel loved, regardless of who it is she ends up with. Most people don't realize how truly lonely she is. They only see the mean, snobbish exterior. She acts the way she does to protect herself from looking vulnerable to others.

to make it easier,

Hair color? Light brown
Eye color? Chocolate brown
Tattoos and piercings? My ears are pierced twice each
Something you don’t leave the house without? My purse, and everything in it.
Favorite song? Communication Break by Aya Kamiki
Favorite book? I don't read
Favorite movie? Who goes to a movie theater to actually watch movies anyway?
Who do you live with? Both my parents, and my uncle... sort of.
Close friends? The School Slut, the Jock, and the Follower. You know, those popular kids. Who else?
Crush? The Jock

Even now I've found something so precious
I'm still waiting in that place for you

x-Tariraritarara-x

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

my name isL o k i Shea Y o u n g

shall I introduce myself?

My name is Loki Shea Young, but I rather be called just Loki, please. I was born on November 5th, seventeen years ago. Of course I am a guy that enjoys dating girls, I guess.

A little about myself.

Loki's original parents lived in a very poor village in southeast Asia-- somewhere near where the borders of China, Vietnam, and Laos touch. Both his mother, Suttida, and his father, Shuk-Yee, worked the farmlands the Hwang family had farmed for generations. They were one of the wealthier families in the village, and earned respect from that. Members of the Hwang family lived in huts scattered around the plot of land, and visited each other as freely as if they lived together in one household. Every morning they would rise together and work the fields, but Shuk-Yee frequently stayed home or worked only part of the day. He spoke of becoming a doctor one day and making a better living and moving to an industrialized city. After several years of tolerating it, Suttida finally confronted her husband during a severe drought. The fields wouldn't produce a large enough harvest to supply them with food and necessities for the year, so she told Shuk-Yee to start thinking more realistically-- he was just a peasant; he would never become a doctor. She meant well, but the desperate need for money turned her words harsh. She sent her husband away to a larger village some few miles away to look for work that could sustain the family. While he was away, however, one disaster after another happened.

Only a couple nights after Shuk-Yee's departure, Suttida's uncle, Kunchai, visited her in her home long after the rest of the village had fallen asleep. Without warning, he knocked her out and raped her in her own bed. He fled the village shortly afterwards, not to be heard from again. Suttida was shaken up for days, and prayed for her husband to return home soon, but a month went by and not a sign of him returned to her. Monsoon season approached and with it came terrible storms. A few of the huts in the village were torn to pieces, and the few crops growing in the field were either torn out or drowned. The Hwang family could feel the hunger winter would bring if they did not find some other method of profit. After battling with herself for several days, Suttida decided to sell her body to a wealthy-looking traveler passing through the village one evening. She offered him a place to sleep, food, and love if he paid her a decent sum of money, which he agreed to without hesitation. Despite earning enough money to get through at least the first month of winter, she still felt heavy with guilt. It did not lighten the load when she discovered herself to be pregnant shortly afterwards. With little technology available, however, she was unsure whose child it was-- Kunchai's or the traveler's.

Another month longer, Shuk-Yee returned with much earned money and several luxuries many of the villagers had never seen before. He was welcomed warmly by everyone but Suttida, who hesitated. Shuk-Yee picked up on it immediately, but the pregnancy remained a secret for another month. When he found out, however, he became infuriated. His wife was a tramp, and had she not been carrying a child, her punishment would have been death. Instead, he took everything and left her. He was determined to pursue the medical career. Suttida, devastated, went to live with her sister.

When Suttida had her child, she lived only long enough to give him a name: Min Kyung Hwang-- "rich, bright child"-- hoping that he would have a bright future. For the next two and a half years, Min Kyung would live in an overcrowded, understaffed orphanage in Thailand where lack of attention and care severely impacted his psychological development.

In California lived a typical American couple-- John and Linda Young. They were a close couple with a fountain of never-ending love between them. Despite all of the love, however, they had no luck producing a child. A trip to the doctor tagged Linda "infertile," but the couple did not grow sad at the news. Instead, they decided to do what any up-standing American would do: help those in need. After hearing depressing stories about the sad orphans in third-world countries, Linda was more set on adopting than she had been on having her own child, and John didn't protest. Linda spent hours a day reading papers and researching orphanages in lower parts of China, Romania, and Thailand. Each day she grew more and more excited. They planned the day they would visit the orphanage and Linda fantasized about what her child would be like.

When they traveled to Asia, Linda had decided on one orphanage in Thailand and another in central China. Having been flooded by the desire to create the most good for the less fortunate, she wanted to visit the poorest orphanage first-- the one in Thailand. When she saw all of the children, she was overwhelmed. She held and played with the infants, which the orphanage consisted primarily of, and was about to remark to her husband about how difficult it would be to choose one when she spotted an older boy sitting by himself. The caretaker explained that, despite being over two years old, he had not learned to speak (or if he had, he didn't show it), and that he was assumed to be mentally incompetent. Linda was won over almost instantly, though blinded mainly by her pity for all of the less fortunate children and her desire to help them. To her, the two-year-old looked to be the least fortunate of them all, even more so than those born with cleft palates. She couldn't wait to take him home with her, acting almost like a young girl about to receive a puppy for her birthday. She had even thought of a name: Loki.

When Loki came home, John and Linda learned that he could indeed speak a few words, but it didn't matter because he would be learning English anyway. The first few weeks, Loki didn't respond much to affection, or anything his new parents did. John began to feel doubt that the boy had any chance of recovery and that he would be stuck caring for a retarded child until he himself was old and unable to take care of himself. But Linda didn't feel that way, and didn't stop showering Loki with love and affection. It all paid off within a month and soon Loki was talking and acting like a normal child.

When Loki was four, he met his first friend, and perhaps his only true one. In a primarily white community, Loki needed someone to make him feel like he fit in, and Pez did just that. The two were nearly inseparable, except when it came to school. They were forced apart during classes, where Loki suffered the brunt of ostracism from his white classmates. When his stress-induced problem surfaced when he was about seven, things only became worse. Whenever he felt stress or anxiety, his hair would thin, he would become shaky, and he wouldn't be able to eat right. At first, it came irregularly. Some things would cause stress while other things did not. He shut himself off from the world eventually, and his parents had to drag him to school. Out of self-protection, he became bitter during these times. After a year, it began to happen regularly with no trigger to cause it. He would lose his appetite first. His hands would begin to shake not long afterwards, and soon his hair would begin coming out much easier than normal people's. Whenever it happened, he became bitter and cold to everyone but Pez.

Eventually, the symptoms fell away entirely to leave only the personality change, which would stay with him for the rest of his life. As soon as his father realized Loki was "stable," he began to push him into playing sports. As much as he tried, however, Loki just couldn't get them right and soon lost interest, much to his father's dismay. He pushed him to sign up for the football team in middle school, but the coach pulled Loki out within the first couple of weeks because he was such a burden to the team.

When Loki turned twelve, Pez moved away. Loki had no one left, and his mother could tell he was truly depressed-- not just the result of his strange cycle. She bought him a digital camera, hoping it would help him get his mind off missing his friend. Loki took to the device quickly, and spent most of his time from then on photographing anything that caught his interest. It wasn't long after that when Olivia was introduced to him as his cousin. He endured her insults and attitude, but knew deep down she was longing for companionship. In an attempt to offer her what she sought, he stood up for her when she got in a fight with her "friends;" however, she chastised him for letting people know he was anything to her. Loki gave up quickly and decided she wasn't worth his time, but she wouldn't leave him alone.

I'm one of a kind

Loki is an extremely tolerant person. Anything from a caustic remark to an over-hyperactive child he can take with little reaction. It makes freaking him out difficult. He's learned that most things are too trivial to waste time on, so he doesn't. He just lets things happen. He's not shy-- though he used to be when he was a child. He simply doesn't like to talk much. The correlation between his distant and aloof demeanor and his lack of friends is unclear, but it is most likely that his lack of friends caused his lack of speech rather than the other way around. Around girls, he becomes much more cautious and guarded-- particularly around girls like his cousin-- due to a poor social life as a child. From that stemmed low self-esteem and low self-image. Some of the kinder people call it modesty or humility, but Loki is convinced he lacks anything of talent or interest; however, his skills with photography and Photoshop are quite superb. Those who have the chance to see his work are generally impressed by it, but Loki has the tendency to turn down most compliments.

Academically, Loki is far from impressive. In fact, he struggles in the general courses he takes, and not because he lacks the drive and motivation to study in school. He simply isn't smart when it comes to academics. His parents have signed him up for a tutor on the weekends, which has helped a little, but he doesn't see any scholarships in his future (or even college, for that matter). He makes the best out of what he has though and is quite practical and level-headed despite his grades.

Being an orphan and living in an overcrowded orphanage in a third-world country for the first two and a half years of his life marred Loki's chances of normal life, even if he had tried to be such. What started as a minor nervous problem grew into a full personality disorder, which Loki has had for as long as he can remember. Every seventeen days, his personality shifts almost like that of a person suffering from bipolar disorder. He becomes depressed and bitter, though he's typically a nice person on "normal" days. From that day until the end of the cycle (which can last anywhere from one day to a full month), Loki finds the worst side of anything and everything. He's known mostly for his cynicism, which nothing can escape. The entire philosophy of existentialism seems to manifest itself in his being, but once the "cycle" ends, he returns abruptly to his normal disposition. Until the seventeenth day comes around again, that is. The primary indicator of this change is his sudden change in wardrobe and the appearance of eyeliner.

to make it easier,

Hair color? Black (usually)
Eye color? Black
Tattoos and piercings? None
Something you don’t leave the house without? My "travel" camera, a Canon Ixus 75
Favorite song? Mama ga boku wo sutete Papa ga boku wo okashita hi by cali≠gari
Favorite book? I don't read much
Favorite movie? Anything. I don't really have a favorite
Who do you live with? My adoptive parents
Close friends? No one, really...
Crush? I don't know why, but the Fashionista has caught my eye lately.

Now even my old memories
Can start floating away, too

x-Tariraritarara-x

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

xxo ʟ i v i αxxʜ o ɳ ԁ αxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxSurely that thing called living takes strength
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxThe fact that I'm standing firm on my own two feet means something

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“Hey, kiddo. Get up.”
A strong hand shook Loki’s shoulder.
”You’ll be late for school.”
Loki mumbled something incoherent, muffled beneath the heavy comforter of his bed and the mass of pillows around his face. He turned over and burrowed deeper within the warmth of the sheets.
”Get up. You have to walk Olivia to school this morning.”
Slowly, Loki rolled over onto his back and cracked a sleepy eye. His mother was a blur in front of him, but he could see the smug smile dancing on her lips. ”What?” he asked wearily.
”Yeah, you heard me… faking sleep…” she mumbled, flicking her blond hair over her shoulder. ”Olivia’s car is still in she ‘shop.”
Loki pushed himself up against the pillows. ”And I have to walk with her… why? She can walk herself to school.”
The remark was met with a sharp sting to his shoulder. His mother had hit him. ”That’s no way to treat a girl,” she scolded. ”Her mom doesn’t want her walking by herself.”
Loki rolled his eyes and rubbed his arm. ”Right,” he breathed, his voice dripping with sarcasm, ”because there are so many ***** around here.”
His mother shot him a glare, but humor and playfulness danced in the seawater. ”Take it up with her mom,” she said finally, biting back a laugh. Making another hit to the shoulder—much softer than the previous—she turned towards the door. ”Get up. You’ll be late if you don’t hurry.”


Fully-dressed in a worn black t-shirt with an obscure logo across it and a pair of old jeans, Loki made his way downstairs. His room was the only room on the second floor, which made him believe it had probably once been an attic. It was cozy enough though, and there weren’t too many bugs. He couldn’t complain. His adoptive parents weren’t all that bad for typical white people. They were much more lenient than Asian parents, that was for sure. At least he didn’t have to worry about getting straight A’s on his report card. He probably would have been disowned by now.

With a sigh, Loki grabbed his camera and snagged a bagel his mother had laid out for him on the kitchen table. It wasn’t often that he ate breakfast in the mornings, but it was a nice change when he had the chance. He called a good-bye over his shoulder and stepped outside. It was much warmer than his house had been, which his father typically kept like an icebox. He wasn’t sure if he liked it or not, but he guessed it was too early to decide. If he started sweating before reaching the school, then it probably wasn’t a good temperature. His eyes, narrow and as black as onyx gemstones, lifted to gaze up at the clear sky. It was going to be a nice day, though it would have felt nicer had it been a little cooler. Unfortunately, he had to start it off with his cousin, who brought all sorts of headaches when she was around. He walked slowly down the sidewalk towards her house, which was about four times bigger than his own and probably the largest in the neighborhood. So much for concealing her wealth. He purposely took his time. He was in no hurry to meet her, but she was probably already pacing angrily in her foyer-- complaining that her escort should always be on time.

Loki came to a stop in front of the gates of the monstrous house. Out of unwillingness to go to the door, he busied himself with the examination of the structures. The gates were not so much protection as they were a boast of wealth. He didn't see the point. Weren't there more important things rich people could spend their money on?
"Unnh, Loki! You inconsiderate b*****d!"
Loki didn't even need to look up to know his cousin was fuming in the doorway. Her shriek had probably woken the rest of the neighborhood as well.
Olivia stormed down the steps and to the gate, the most vicious scowl contorting her features. "What kind of escort are you? You're going to leave a lady waiting at her doorstep?" She prodded his chest sharply, her chocolate eyes alight with a fiery contempt. With her three-inch heels, she towered over Loki, who was a mere five feet and five inches. It created a false sense of power, which always overwhelmed her when they met.
Loki shrugged his shoulders and shoved his hands into his pockets. He turned away from her and continued down the sidewalk. "What lady?" he asked simply, his tone detached.
Olivia flushed. "Ooh, don't think that just because you're poor, you're allowed to treat me that way! You should show me respect. I can have your father fired, you know." She walked briskly to his side, her heels clicking angrily against the cement.
Loki rolled his eyes. He was used to her threats by now. He knew her parents were too nice to fire his father for such a petty reason.

Silence enveloped the two, save for the rhythmic clacking of Olivia's shoes. Loki wasn't going to argue with her so early in the morning. It was pointless and he knew that, eventually, she would calm down. Gradually, her anger ebbed away and was replaced by boredom. She glanced about the street, her eyes ever-searching for someone who might know her. She couldn't be seen with Loki. He was an outcast, and her friends would laugh at her if they knew she was dependent on him this day. She cast him a side-glance, her long eyelashes fanned out against her cheekbones. He was walking like he always did-- his shoulders slightly hunched and his feet dragging as if he were carrying the weight of depression. His sharp features were emotionless, unlike her own, which clearly displayed her feelings. Her thin eyebrows came together. "So this is what it's like to be poor?"
Loki slowed and looked up at her, an eyebrow arched. "Huh?"
Olivia watched the small point of sidewalk in the distance. "Is this what it's like to be poor?" she repeated, her voice becoming airy. "Those poor peasants... They have to walk everywhere. I don't see how anyone can survive without cars. My feet are hurting already."
Loki stopped completely in his tracks and stared at Olivia with incredulity. "Well maybe..." he started slowly, beginning to walk again. "you shouldn't wear heels to walk in."
Olivia whirled on him. "Are you telling me to wear some ugly pair of tennis shoes? I would never be caught dead in what you're wearing."
Loki shook his head and walked past her. Of course that would be her reaction. Fine. Whatever. Her feet can fall off for all I care, he thought resentfully.

Silence returned and dwelled between them for a while. Olivia's purse released a small electronic sound and she dug in it to retrieve her iPhone. Her pink-glossed lips pulled back into a conceited smile, which she made sure Loki could see. Her long fingernails clicked against the screen as she thumbed a reply and pressed send. Loki watched her out of the corner of his eye.
"Looks like there's a party tonight," she said proudly, "at Cameron's. You know, that famous model? Of course you know him. I doubt you've ever talked to him though." She laughed lightly, rubbing the invitation further into Loki's face. "Are you going?" She paused and listened to the silence, her complacent grin broadening. "Oh? Sounds like you didn't get an invitation."
Loki's expression grew cold. Olivia had taken a step too far.
"You know why?" she asked, loving the opportunity to gloat. "You don't have any friends."
"Shut up." His voice was icy.
Olivia giggled. "What's that like?"
Loki said nothing more. She was looking for something to torment him with. He didn't care whether or not he was invited to some kid's house party, but the way Olivia was boasting went too far.

The school loomed ahead: Johanna High School. As soon as Loki stepped through the doors, he would be free of Olivia. He had to constrain himself from running towards the campus. He wanted away from her as quickly as possible, though she seemed to be loving the way the morning turned out, despite her initial complaining. A sigh forced its way between Loki's lips and his eyes slowly lifted as they stepped onto the freshly-cut lawn of the campus. "There's your friend over there," Loki pointed out, nodding his head in Savannah's direction.
Olivia smiled broadly and skipped off towards the blonde without so much as a good-bye.
"Hey, girl," she greeted loudly. She laughed and gently pushed Savannah. "Already showing off this morning, huh?"

Loki shook his head and continued into the building. He didn't really have anyone to hang out with before class started, so he decided to head to his locker. Much to his surprise, a clump of people had gathered in the hallway his locker resided, which was typically deserted. He eyed them as he passed. Two girls, a boy. He didn't know them by name, but had seen them around. The boy was his age, he knew that much, and maybe one of the girls as well. They were both in his grade, at least. The other was a year younger. Carefully, he made his way around the group. He didn't want to interrupt their conversation, nor did he want to be noticed. His locker was only a few paces away. He turned the dial and pulled the door open. Even with the amount he looked in it a day, he still could not get over the new, clean feeling it had. Being in a newly built high school had its perks.

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xxxxxx┌BLANKBLANKxxx┐xxxxx┌BLANKBLANKxxx┐xxxxx┌BLANKBLANKxxx┐

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xxxxxx└BLANKBLANKxxx┘xxxxx└BLANKBLANKxxx┘xxxxx└BLANKBLANKxxx┘

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xxxxxxxxxxxʟ o ƙ ixxʏ o u ɴ gxx

I live my life, and I also diexxxxxxxxxxx

And I think it should never change, the blue skyxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Just that, that's my only wishxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

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【xxʟ o ƙ ixxʏ o u ɴ gxx】

Talk of the party that evening buzzed throughout the hallways and all around Loki. From the sound of things, it was going to be a big one. He piled his books into his locker and pulled out the binder of his first class. He wasn't invited, but it didn't bother him. Not too much, at least. He knew very well why. It wasn't because he was a "freak" (his peers had long outgrown the use of that nickname), nor was it because no one liked him. No one really knew him. Even fewer knew his name-- first or last. It was most probable the big shot model Cameron had yet to hear of his existence, which surprised Loki very little. His eyes aimlessly searched the inside of his locker. His focus was elsewhere-- on the words tossed about the hallway. He caught just the end of a passing conversation between two sophomores. It sounded to him that the majority of the school had been invited to Cameron's house for the evening. Olivia was nothing special, as much as she liked to think that. A smile crept to Loki's lips and tugged at his mouth. Olivia wouldn't be happy when she learned of the wide range of social groups attending the party.

Loki closed the door to his locker and faced the now-deserted hallway. He wondered if he would have attended the party had he received an invitation; however, the thought lingered only briefly before he shook it away. He wouldn't enjoy it, especially one of such caliber. Besides, he had homework to catch up on. At least one A on his report card would be nice before he graduated, and with his math grade at a mid-D, he almost hoped his parents would be strict for once and restrict him from going to the party. Had he been invited, of course.

The ring of the bell pulled Loki back to reality. He hadn't intended to just stand and stare in the middle of the hallway. Luckily, it was empty. No one saw him. With a twitch of his neck, he swished his hair out of his eyes simply for it to fall limply back in place again. His bangs were so flat they were practically dead. He didn't care much about his hair, but sometimes his bangs were beyond aggravating. With a sigh, he pushed them to the right again and started down the hallway. In the quiet tranquility of the studentless corridor, only Loki's footsteps, rhythmic and soft, echoed against the walls. It was surprisingly enjoyable. Wiping out half the student body almost seemed like a good idea. Or, if not that, always being late. There was no pushing or shoving, or nearly running over groups of freshmen who stop suddenly in the middle to chat with their girl friends. The broad-shouldered football players were absent, and the violently-inclined were safely in their classrooms, or, as was often the case for their sort, locked in alternative school. Yes, Loki could certainly grow used to this, especially being of such small stature. He didn't have enough fingers to count how many times he had been stepped on or run into because he hadn't been seen by some sophomore who was three times larger (both width and height) than himself. He had his heredity to blame.

Loki watched the watery reflection of the fluorescent lights on the tiled floor as he walked. They bounced with each step and moved gradually closer until he stepped over one and watched the next. His homeroom was on the other end of the school, but he wasn't in a panic. Being a senior had its perks. He could come in late if he felt like it. Of course, it helped that he hadn't done anything to get on his teacher's bad side. He was a good kid. But there wasn't much peer pressure pushing him to do drugs or misbehave. He was pretty clean, though he was reluctant to admit it sometimes.

The door to his homeroom soon came into view. His hand found its way to the handle, and he braced himself for attention to suddenly be turned to him as he opened the door. But no one paid him any mind. The teacher wasn't even in the room yet. Loki exhaled and took his usual spot in the back of the room. His classmates were chattering loudly with one another. Some were sitting on the desktops. Others were standing aimlessly around. Loki's dark eyes watched them all for a moment. He could catch bits and pieces of conversations concerning the party that evening. That was what nearly everyone in the school was talking about, it seemed. Loki shook his head and opened up his binder and a book. He still had homework he needed to finish-- a couple of math problems that had been particularly tricky the night before. He was absolutely no good at math, which was why, even as a senior, he was in general Algebra II, which consisted primarily of juniors and one or two sophomores. Most his age took Calculus, and those who were a little below average took Pre-Calculus. But Loki wasn't good enough for either class. Nor for the regular Algebra II class.

He sighed and propped his head up with his hand as he read over a problem. Quadratic formulas; he hated them. He spent a good two hours the night before simply trying to figure out how to solve for x in only five problems. He was sure his tutor wasn't particularly fond of him just for that. Loki learned one concept in the amount of time it took a regular student to learn five. And it wasn't just math. English and grammar didn't sink in either. About the only things he was remotely good at were the biological sciences, which didn't require much math. And proper English was almost never necessary. Of course, photography was his favorite class of the day. He didn't have to think, and it was something he was passionate about. The class was too short though. Only one hour of the day, he didn't fail.

Loki penciled in an answer, but quickly erased it when it didn't work out. He would be happy when he was finally free of that class.




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BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKA little or a lot, people can't help but change
BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKthat's why they long for things with such pain

BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKNo matter how much the cruel ones may laugh at me
BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKI still believe I'll see the sky

BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKI live my life and I also die
BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKAnd I think it should never change, the blue sky
BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKJust that, that's my only wish


BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKIxxxwxx ixxx sxxxx hxx •xxx •xxxx •

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

𝄞---- »»»------------ Ӑӎї • ӃаҭаԍїBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANK 𝄂

╔═══✖═════════════════✯═════════════════✖═══╗ TWOI

X♪X♫XX♪X♫XTWOTWO

╚═══✖═════════════════✯═════════════════✖═══╝ TWOI

If I could only play pianoBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANK

BLANKBLANKLBLANKBLANKI'd put all my thoughts into song

❝ Ӎїѕҭєг ░░ ✖ Տҥў ✖ ░░ ❞BLANKBLANK

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Ami plodded along. His old black messenger bumped against the back of his leg with every step, creating a rhythmic sound which echoed throughout the deserted hallway. He had no idea where his feet were carrying him, and as his dark eyes checked his bearings, he figured his destination was his locker. At least he knew subconsciously what he needed to do. What if school doesn't start until tomorrow? The thought struck him suddenly and his stomach clenched. That would be his luck. He truly hated not knowing the news around school. He came to a stop in the middle of the hall. His dark eyes scanned the area. Still no sign of life. No students, no chattering-- not even teachers were to be seen. Ami's brow knitted. His heart had frozen. I'll check a classroom or something, he decided, unsure what it would accomplish. Even if it wasn't a school day, there were bound to be teachers around somewhere-- Right? If nothing else, he could at least get answers. And so he urged his feet to move again and the sound of his bag against his leg resumed once more.

He stared at the tiled floor, old and worn from years of being trod upon. He watched the reflections of the fluorescent lights move beneath him. His locker was in the older part of the school. Some called it "ghetto;" some said it needed work. Most didn't want lockers on that hall. Ami didn't care either way. A locker was a locker, after all. It wasn't like he made his home in it. He glanced up when he recognized the part of the hall his own locker resided, and began to count the numbers on the silver plates. Coming to his, he moved towards the right side and stopped in front of the rectangular box. He stared at it blankly for a moment, trying to remember his combination. Memory had never been his strong point-- especially numbers. Luckily, he had slipped a piece of paper with his combination on it into his bag before leaving school. He almost knew that he wasn't going to remember it. So, with a sigh, he let his left hand lift the flap of his bag, unzip the outer pocket, and fish around in it until his fingers brushed against the crumpled thing he was searching for. He extracted it and smoothed it out against the locker to read the numbers. They didn't seem too hard this year. Perhaps after using it a couple times, he could memorize it. Ami placed his free hand on the dial and began to turn it. He did it slowly, however-- slower than most, even if they were putting it in for the first time. With motor dysgraphia, he had to take his time with the fine motor skills most took for granted-- such as tying shoes, or buttoning shirts, or opening a locker.

After a moment, he managed to get the door open without error. But what now? He gazed into the dark hole, taking note of the dust that had collected in the bottom and of the Sharpie'd graffiti covering the inside of the door. Old stickers were pasted to the back. One even had the year "Class of 1976" scrawled across it. Ami absentmindedly scratched at one, but decided it was best not to waste his time. He looked down at his bag, pulling a binder out to place into his locker. That was all though. The box gave a sad, desolate impression, which Ami's own features mimicked. At length, he closed it and continued down the hall. Now all he needed to do was find some sort of life in the otherwise vacant building.

Ami walked along steadily. The tranquility of the usually congested hallways was new and actually pleasant, he realized. His mind drifted to private schools. Are they like this? he wondered. He had never been to one, much less seen one. But "private" made it seem small--- maybe not necessarily the school, but the student body. He chuckled inwardly at himself. Like he'd ever get to go to one. As he listened to the silence though, he could catch the faint sound of voices. It sounded like a mass of people. A first day meeting? The realization suddenly dawned on him. Of course there was no one in the halls. That was because they were all in the auditorium. He sped up his pace then, afraid that his wandering had made him late. He didn't want to miss another bit of crucial information.

When he reached the auditorium, he quickly slipped inside. His gaze drifted over the hundreds of heads already filling the seats. Who was he to sit with? Who could he sit with? He was one of those rare seniors who didn't know many people, and his number of friends was a small one, if he could even call them "friends." Ami chewed his lip lightly and started slowly down one of the aisles. His dark eyes swept from one side to the other. The first empty chair he saw, he would take it. He didn't want to look like one of those pitiful people who wandered about with a lonely look on their face, hoping someone would be kind and invite them to a seat. He had been that person once, and he didn't like the feeling.

Ami looked ahead. He could see an empty cluster of seats near the middle. That was his destination, so he went after it. A girl with a cascade of brown hair sat nearby, so Ami decided to take his place a chair away from her. From only a glance, he recalled her as one of the band students; however, the glance lasted a second too long and he felt his toe catch on the side of the chair. He stumbled to sit down far from gracefully, but he attempted to play it off coolly. Pulling his bag into his lap, he pretended to be busying himself. Suddenly, the auditorium was plunged into darkness and Ami glanced up at the stage, and then at everyone in the room. If only it had been just a second earlier...

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Becase I, who know nothing, will one day sleep forever

TWOIn a dream unreachable, I am drowningBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKEven in this sadness, I reach out my hand to search for you, however

TWOTWOSinking to your sideBLANKBLANKBLANKLike lost children, again we separate, and the only thing remaining is painBLANKBLANKTWO"For a long time, I gazed at the red moon

Just by doing that, why am I crying?"

I start to wish I would disappear."BLANK

I am sinking
Sinking
S i n k i n g

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

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BLANKBLANKO1

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Finally, alone at last. Crick felt relief lift weight from his chest like a crane might lift a ten-ton bar of steel. Without the nagging of a nurse filling his head, he could relax and clear his mind. He could feel his muscles-- the little he had, at least-- sighing as the liberation from unnecessary tension was felt throughout his entire, emaciated being. His tired eyes, darkened by sleepless nights, lifted and aimlessly searched the white ceiling above his head. Completely and utterly alone. He drank the feeling in. It was a marvelous feeling. For two days, the bird had not visited. For two whole days, Crick felt safe in his own room. Those two bird-less days had turned a prison cell into the only sanctuary in the entire psych ward. He leaned back against the pillows of his bed, placing the majority of his weight on his elbows, and tilted his head back to examine the wrought-iron headboard. No sign of round yellow eyes. He sat up again to check the windowsill. No flight feathers. No tail feathers. No ominous silhouette with a frightening curved beak. A small smile, slight and rarely seen, danced on Crick’s thin lips. I've finally scared it away, he thought, rather than the more rational "The medication is finally working." He let out a self-satisfied sigh and fell back against the pillows again. If he could just make the seemingly stupid nurses see that he was indeed capable of fending for himself, he would be out of this prison in no time.

Crick stretched a thin arm out to reach the metal headboard and lightly tap his fingernails, in no distinct rhythm, against it. The tinny ring produced brought a soothing sound to his ears as opposed to the irritation most received. He gazed up at the ceiling, black eyes unblinking. With the bird gone, what else was there to do in his room? He tugged thoughtfully at a strand of wavy black hair with the hand that was not busy creating the noise that would prevent his loss of hearing. Nothing he could think of. It seemed his only option was to venture out to the dayroom and find a new puzzle to work on. Reluctantly, he sat up and slung his legs off the edge of the cot. Skeletal hands moved to grip the edge of the mattress and distress the old springs into softly crying out in repeated bursts. His feet touched the ground and he stood, assuring that he was steady and balanced before taking the few steps needed to reach the doorway where he hesitated. Desert the sanctuary so soon? He almost felt remorseful, but he knew that he would be left with nothing to do but create noise if he remained. He inclined his head. Outside would be noisy with patients and nurses bustling to and fro. His thoughts would be open for anyone to read and his mind would make an easy target for the insertion of thoughts. Germs covered anything and everything. He chewed his lip and glanced over his shoulder. His headphones. They were new—recently purchased by his mother upon written request. His last pair had been made unfit to wear during a stubborn game of tug-of-war with one of his therapists who had insisted he conquer his fear by removing them and placing them somewhere he could not easily reach. If his opinion had been asked for, he would have said that she was the irrational one. Not himself.

He picked up the small, audio device and slipped it around his neck to hang there freely until he felt the slightest bit unsafe. It was simply a precaution, just in case he did feel an alarming thought forcing its way into his head. Although he would, and did admit that sometimes he was not always quick enough, that did not put a stop to his habit. He pulled on a pair of a disposable gloves before placing a hand on the cool metal doorknob and pulling back to leave his new "safe place" and throw himself to the "wilderness" he felt was the rest of the ward, and the world, for that matter. His thin body immediately and visibly tensed, and his eyes grew wider and more frantic. He began to walk, stiffly, to the other end of the hall, a hand fumbling in his pocket for the bottle of hand sanitizer he carried with him everywhere he went. Even while wearing gloves, he felt safer when he knew he could easily disinfect if necessary. A nurse, smiling and jovial, passed, but he pushed himself against the wall to avoid contact like she had been the manifestation of the Black Plague. By now, however, the staff had become used to his antics, and nothing fazed them.

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⌜ How sad, since in reality I enjoy pretending to be lonely ⌝
xxxxxxxxxWhat you think brings tears to my eyes
⌞ xxxxxxxx Too late, it's too late after so long xxxxxxxx ⌟

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