Count Grotesque
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Shhh...
Shhh...
Count Grotesque
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♪ ♫Shinnichi➔ϩћiɳ♪♪♫
ღ♂♂/♂♀ღ
disOrdered☆foRtunE
✁_ _ _All men dream, but not equally.
✁_ _ _Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds,
✁_ _ _wake in the day to find that it was vanity:
✁_ _ _but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men,
✁_ _ _for they may act on their dreams with open eyes,
✁_ _ _to make them possible.
==== ☠ ====
==== ☠ ====
The alarm clock blared loudly through the messy bedroom, there were sketchbooks and pencils laying everywhere. Scraps of fabric and thread were scattered about the floor, the body double in the corner was wearing a brand new outfit finished only hours before. Shin groaned and rolled onto his side pulling the blankets father over his head after he had reached out and slammed the snooze button on his alarm clock. He had been up until the wee hours of the morning working on a shirt due later that day. He laid in bed for another ten minutes until again his alarm sounded causing him to jolt out of bed and turn the alarm off. He stood and rubbed his sleepy eyes. Damn….I forgot to text Saki back… He dug around in the pockets of his jeans until his fingers wrapped around his cell-phone. He slides the top up to reveal a full keyboard. His black painted fingernails flew over the keys with expertise from lots of practice.
Hey trouble! Sorry I fell asleep before I got back to you. I finished the shirt, like…four hours ago lol.
He had a habit of calling everyone either trouble or babe and he was a huge flirt about it. He sent the message the other man he had become acquainted with in the years he has been at the Fashion Institute. In fact he considered him a close friend, one of six that he had. One that he worked with on disOrdered☆foRtunE design team. He smiled to himself and slid his phone closed. He was confident that this year the trophy would be theirs.
Shin sets his phone on his bedside table before wandering over to his closet to figure out what exactly it is that he wants to wear that day. He smiles as he pulled on black washed, boot cut, skinny jeans, a white button up shirt, a black suit jacket, a black tie and white creepers for his feet. He walked to the bathroom and smiled to himself as he put in his 00” gauges. Shin had his ears pierced halfway up the cartilage and both lobes gauged. He felt too tired to do anything special with his hair and makeup so he left his brown and blonde hair in slight waves with only minimal styling then rimmed his dark brown eyes with black eyeliner. He finished by screwing on a spiked tongue ring. Even on laid back days Shin liked to make a statement with his style.
Shin walked back through his room lifting and throwing the fabric, vowing to himself to get it all cleaned up later, until he found his wallet. He put that in the back of his jeans pocket. He gathered up a few sketches and put them into a three ringed binder that was covered in pictures of clothing from his favorite and most inspirational designers. He slipped this binder into his black messenger bag that was decorated with patches from his favorite bands. He picked up his cell phone and slipped that into one of his front pockets before carefully removing the shirt from the body double. He was quite proud of himself for being able to pull it out in such little time.
Shin walked out of his small apartment down to the crowded streets of Tokyo, everyone was making their morning commutes to school and work. He felt in a daze from lack of sleep and walked in a almost zombie like state, that is until the scent from a coffee shop caught his attention. He quickly walked into the small café, the bell over the door ringing. He made his way to the counter and ordered an extra large coffee, black with four shots of expresso. It would take all that to keep him awake through the day. Once he had his coffee in hand he sat in a small booth and relaxed in the quietness that surrounded him. It almost seemed like the café had a relaxation spell on it, once people walked in they were greeted by the sweet, rough smell of coffee and a soft murmer of other people that sought refuge on the loud hectic morning commute to where ever their final destination may be.
==== ☠ ====
Count Grotesque
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╔══════════════════════════════════════════════════╗
Sebastian Ivan LaFontaineSebastian
The Basicsxxxxxxxx
My name is ○ Sebastian Ivan LaFontaine
But my nickname is ○ Sebastian
I am proudly ○ Twenty
I play the role of the ○ Musician
The Bodyxxxxxxxx
I stand at ○ 185cm
And I weigh ○ 59kg
My eyes are ○ Deep milky blue, like the ocean
My hair is generally ○ Dark chocolate brown
The Mindxxxxxxxx
I LOVE♥ My Violin
♥ Reading
♥ Things that are nice to the touch
I HATE × Rough material
× Annoying Voices
× Assumptions
But I'm afraid of Ø Absolute Silence
The Restxxxxxxxx
My body modifications include ○ Broken angel wings on his back.
Some of my scars ○ An assortment from falling lots when he was younger and still coping, and a rather large scars on his wrists from a moment he doesn’t speak of ever.
One of my favorite colors is ○ #A45713
And the one pulling my strings is ○ GasMaskPaparazzo
My name is ○ Sebastian Ivan LaFontaine
But my nickname is ○ Sebastian
I am proudly ○ Twenty
I play the role of the ○ Musician
The Bodyxxxxxxxx
I stand at ○ 185cm
And I weigh ○ 59kg
My eyes are ○ Deep milky blue, like the ocean
My hair is generally ○ Dark chocolate brown
The Mindxxxxxxxx
I LOVE♥ My Violin
♥ Reading
♥ Things that are nice to the touch
I HATE × Rough material
× Annoying Voices
× Assumptions
But I'm afraid of Ø Absolute Silence
The Restxxxxxxxx
My body modifications include ○ Broken angel wings on his back.
Some of my scars ○ An assortment from falling lots when he was younger and still coping, and a rather large scars on his wrists from a moment he doesn’t speak of ever.
One of my favorite colors is ○ #A45713
And the one pulling my strings is ○ GasMaskPaparazzo
╚══════════════════════════════════════════════════╝
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xX_______________________________Sebastian Ivan LaFontaine
A painter paints pictures on canvas.
But musicians paint their pictures on silence.
~Leopold Stokowski
A painter paints pictures on canvas.
But musicians paint their pictures on silence.
~Leopold Stokowski
The cold winter wind howled down the hall, enticing the young man as he walked towards the locked room awaiting him at the end. He alone possessed the keys for the music room at the end of the dark empty hall. The keys were given to him so that he may spend his evenings with the keeper of his heart, music. He walked slowly taking in all the music around him, the howl of the wind like a lonely wolf crying for its companion, the tempo of his shoes as they hit the ground with his slow step. The soft tinkle of the keys in his pocket, almost like the comfort of a tune from a long known music box, eerie and loving all at once. As his mind melted with the sounds all around him, he felt the ghosts of his past nipping at his heels. He moved his right hand to caress the scar traveling up his left wrist, touching it as if it were a long lost lover. He shut his deep milky unseeing eyes as his mind revisited once again the night his wrists tasted the sharp bite of steel, his lips tasted the selfish seductive kiss of death. To what made him crave that touch. To what made him try to take Azrael as his final lover. Anger swelled within his chest as he stopped before the door to his music room, his hand shoved into his pocket locating the keys so he may enter his sanctuary. He often referred to this room as his own since he was the only one to use it on most occasions, not many appreciated the beauty of music now.
Sebastian turned the key in the lock until he heard the sweet welcome as the lock opened to allow him access. Tonight he had left his violin in his room; he wanted to spend time with his other lover, the piano. At the far end of the room, near the window sat an old, white, grand piano, but colors meant nothing to Sebastian. It was the smell of the wood mixed with the resin he found beautiful, the mournful, happy, emotion filled sounds the strings made when the foot pounded the strings that wrapped his heart in a sweet embrace.
Slowly Sebastian made his way through the room, the floor boards creaking below his feet; he felt the hollow lonely sound it created all the way to his soul. His long slender fingers reached out as he counted his steps to caress the smooth top of the piano, his finger tips were calloused after years of using the violin, veins in his hands protruding from years of holding his hands in the certain position needed to properly play the piano. He adored the way the smooth wood felt under his fingers, the feelings it sent shooting through his body. As Sebastian reached the bench for the piano he stopped by the widow and opened it even further than it already was, allowing more wind to gust in, to make the room as cold as his loneliness felt to him. Making the cold feelings physical against his skin. The chill raised Goosebumps over his pale white skin. The only thing he wore today was a black button up with the top three buttons undone, tight black slacks, and simple black dress shoes. He had no use for high fashion and wore mainly black so he would not make a fool of himself. ’And if I can not see the breath taking beauty of colors why should I wear them.’
The piano bench made a soft creaking noise under his weight as Sebastian finally took his seat in front of the ebony and ivory keys before him. Each one beckoned for his loving touch, each one longed to tell a story. Slowly he stretched his fingers over the keys to tell out tonight’s tale; to heal tonight’s broken heart. His fingers danced of the keys, his hurt, anguish, and anger traveling into each note. The harsh yet sad melody carried down the hall, through the door left ajar by some mistake. The notes danced a slow waltz with the howling wind. Enticing anyone who may be near to enter the room, into the sweet snare. His voice seethed angrily into the empty darkness.
”Did I request thee, maker, from my clay to mold me man, did I solicit thee from darkness to promote me?!”
Sebastian conceived himself a tragic figure, comparing himself to both Adam and Satan. Like Adam, he was shunned by his father, though he strived to be good enough. These rhetorical questions epitomized Sebastian’s ill will toward his father for making him the way he is today. Hs mind wandered back to the fateful day ten years ago, the day is his father took his eye sight.
It was a bright sunny day at the world’s most exclusive resort. The water of the pool glittered beautifully like crystals in the light, the twenty foot diving board in the deep end tugging at those feeling the need for an adrenaline rush. Though to Sebastian the appeal was the chance to impress his father, he climbed up the ladder, one slippery rung at a time, his father waiting at the bottom to see his boy jump, to see his own boy be better than the rest of the young boys his age that were there. Once at the top the little boy of just ten glanced over the edge of the board to the pool below him. He felt a great surge of fear flow through him.
”D-Daddy! It’s too high! I’m scared!”
In that moment his father grew angry, how dare his boy embarrass him like that? Having no tolerance for failure he began to ascend the ladder. Yelling up to his young child. The child he never wanted, the child that was a mistake.
“You will jump before I get up there boy or I am throwing you in.”
In that moment Sebastian began to cry, only to be told to man up, that he was too old to cry. He had been told that his whole life, since before he could remember. Once his father reached the top, he picked Sebastian into his arms, as if to give him a loving embrace, to carry him to safety as a father should have done. Instead he started towards the edge of the board, his voice cooing angrily in the boy’s ear.
“I gave you a choice my little Sebastian. You are going off now.”
He dropped the screaming boy off the edge of the diving boards, sending him plummeting face first towards the blue pool below him. The last thing he ever saw was the cool water rushing at him like a wall. When he had hit the water, eyes open, it not only bruised his sweet little cherub face, it caused his pupils to detach from his corneas. Leaving him permanently blinded.
As Sebastian shook himself back into the present reality, big tears ran down his hallowed high boned cheeks. His anger and pain slowly dissipating into the music.
If a composer could say what
he had to say in words he
would not bother trying to
say it in music. ~Gustav Mahler
Count Grotesque
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Count Grotesque
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Boreeeeeeeeeeeeeeed
XO XO
Count Grotesque
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J.ม.d.g.e ๓є
☮ -------X------- ☮ ( &&)
-I'll- Pr๑งe..... you w/r/o/n/g. That_'s right ...++... That_'s right ....++.....
Just go and try , , , If you tell me w h a t to do .....&....
I'll just Tell y.o.u O F F... Just t-e-l-l me I'm not worth i_t ____x____
A-n-d just watch, where I end up.. ❤-----x-----❤
☮ -------X------- ☮ ( &&)
-I'll- Pr๑งe..... you w/r/o/n/g. That_'s right ...++... That_'s right ....++.....
Just go and try , , , If you tell me w h a t to do .....&....
I'll just Tell y.o.u O F F... Just t-e-l-l me I'm not worth i_t ____x____
A-n-d just watch, where I end up.. ❤-----x-----❤
Ivąη . . . . . xXx §upεrβiа ---♥---
An aristocrat beautifully attired in a world filled with the smell of brimstone and fire. There lived the sins of pride and greed. Seeking eternal life, and freedom from this hell. But this dream never becomes reality. This cage he was trapped in would never be destroyed; he was forced to live in eternal loneliness like a never ending punishment, unable to gaze upon his own reflection, his cage made up of only mirrors. His memories of that day, replayed over and over in his head. He wondered if he was still beautiful. He knew without a doubt though, even if his beauty had withered away, he was still far more attractive than any mere man that he was going to be above them in class, he was everything everyone wished to be. But he had found it to be ever increasingly difficult to stroke his own ego locked away alone.
He laid on his back looking up at the mirrored ceiling, seeing only the floor he was laying on, nothing of himself. He laid here for hours like this hoping that his punishment would waver even if only for a moment, that he might have even a small glance of his face, of his love. He was surrounded by treasures of the rarest beauty, but unable to touch them, only left to covet them. He slowly touched his own face, feeling for flaws, or any signs of ageing, but he felt nothing, only his cool, pale, velvety skin under his slender fingers. He tried to recount how long he had been there, but could not remember. It had been so long that days had faded into years; he had no idea how long he had been trapped like this. How long he had been pushed down, treated like a miscreant, like the others. How had he, he the most beautiful creature, been cast into punishment like the other three?
Anger swelled into Ivan’s chest, he had never been one to give into anger. He was just high on himself, vain and extremely selfish. But today he gave into what he saw as a more primitive emotion. He let a long cry usher from his throat as he tried to break the mirrors, glass shattered around him, twinkling like diamonds in the air, like falling stars. He laughed manically as the mirrors broke, he felt a momentary laps of freedom, and he closed his eyes to take in the feeling. But as he opened his eyes he saw that the mirrors were back, repaired as if he had never taken his rage out on them. He laughed coolly, unable to feel his mentality. He felt insane, like he was losing himself. No, no he could not be like this; it was below him to behave in such a manner.
He slowly recomposed himself and started his pacing through the medium sized room. This is what he did when he wasn’t coveting what he could not touch or trying to force himself to see his reflection in the mirrors that would never show what he wanted so badly. He ran his fingers through his blonde hair, a sick smile crossing his lips as he felt his hair still soft. Through the last millennia, he imagined he had not aged even a moment. He felt a searing of excitement scorch his very core, at the thought of it being so long, warnings becoming legend, legend becoming myth, then forgotten into the depths of time and death.
When I get o-l-d-e-r, , ,
And somebody a.s.k.s x------0------x me,
W h o my first ℓ ove w a s , , ,
I d_o_n_'t wan't to b-r-e-a-k out the family .....♡..... a l b u m.
I w a n t to point, , ,
across -____0____- the r o o m, to, the m-i-r-r-or,
A n d say...
And somebody a.s.k.s x------0------x me,
W h o my first ℓ ove w a s , , ,
I d_o_n_'t wan't to b-r-e-a-k out the family .....♡..... a l b u m.
I w a n t to point, , ,
across -____0____- the r o o m, to, the m-i-r-r-or,
A n d say...
❤ "He's sitting r i g h t over t h e r e.."❤
Count Grotesque
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ℌello -d-e-a-r- roses. The prince is s.p.e.a.k.i.n.g...◕ ◡ ◕Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text Text
If a ℘icture
is w.o.r.t.h x------o------x
Å thousand words
then ɣour touch
is w-o-r-t-h
is w.o.r.t.h x------o------x
Å thousand words
then ɣour touch
is w-o-r-t-h
ღEvery one of themღ
Count Grotesque
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[imgleft]http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a220/Mystikal92/Banners/ping1-2.jpg[/imgleft] [img]http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a220/Mystikal92/Banners/ping3.jpg[/img]
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[list][list][list][size=13][color=gray]♪ ♫ ♬ ♥ ♬ ♫ ♪
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Count Grotesque
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Count Grotesque
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- M y - N a m e ::
- Ivan Superbia
M y - A g e ::
- Twenty Six
M y - S i n ::
- Pride
M i r r o r - M i r r o r ::
Your ears are not good enough to hear about me, let alone hear the complete description of my beauty. I am far more than you will ever be. But I will grace your meaningless life with my wonder and beauty just this once. But I warn you, I am better than anything you have ever seen, you will never be able to view the world the same again after this. My long hair cascades down my back like a waterfall and shines black with far more beauty than even the night sky. My blue eyes glimmer and shine with more wonder than all the worlds gemstones. I stand at 6’1”, the perfect height, oh your 6’1” too? Well my height is better than yours because its mine. I have a thinner build because it makes me look better than you.
M y - P a s t ::
I wasn’t born into the life of luxury, I was luxury in a human form. My father was a business tycoon and my mother was a model. I am made of the best genetics as you can see. Growing up we moved around quite a bit with my fathers business. I never stayed at the same school for more than a year. As we moved I started noticing how horribly imperfect the other children were, some were fat, some were ugly, some were stupid then worst of all…some were average. But me, no, I was always far different. I was always the pretty boy at school, I got the best grades, had the best charm, lets face it I was indeed the best. All the other parents would faun “Why cant you be more like that Superbia boy?”
But money held no grounds for me, my fathers money was beneath me, so I left the family when I finally turned eighteen. I would rule this world with my perfection. How could anyone ever deny me anything I ever wanted. They were all servants in my book. Everyone was just dog s**t beneath my lovely boots so I have spent my entire life in solitude with only my music. I sing with the voice of a thousand angels and play the piano with more talent than even Beethoven could comprehend.
Finally I have found an apartment building with a decent enough rent to house my splendor and beauty. I get a floor all to myself, no sharing with the common folk. I have the best view and the best apartment. Who cares about the candy machine anyway, that was for the street rats. I will only eat the highest quality fruits and vegetables. I am vegetarian; I makes me a better person than you.
M y - W a y s ::
I am the most arrogant, pompous, self loving person you will ever meet. I only associate with people who treat me like the king…no…god that I am. If you want to be my friend then you better learn to grovel.
I like to spend my time with my piano or singing, I am the worlds biggest rock singer. My band is very famous. I’m sure you have heard of us. Everyone has.
If I’m not doing something with my musical talents than I am taking long walks in the graveyard. The acceptance of death all around my makes me wiser than all of mankind who fear and try to run from death, though if I could be a vampire I would do it so I could be in a far better race than mankind.
If you want to get to know me, you come to me. I never come to anyone else. EVER.
M y - P r e f e r e n c e ::
Seme, Im too good to be taken. But if you are really special I might make an exception.
M y - P l a y e r ::
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- M y - N a m e ::
- Ivan Superbia
M y - A g e ::
- Twenty Six
M y - S i n ::
- Pride
M i r r o r - M i r r o r ::
Your ears are not good enough to hear about me, let alone hear the complete description of my beauty. I am far more than you will ever be. But I will grace your meaningless life with my wonder and beauty just this once. But I warn you, I am better than anything you have ever seen, you will never be able to view the world the same again after this. My long hair cascades down my back like a waterfall and shines black with far more beauty than even the night sky. My blue eyes glimmer and shine with more wonder than all the worlds gemstones. I stand at 6’1”, the perfect height, oh your 6’1” too? Well my height is better than yours because its mine. I have a thinner build because it makes me look better than you.
M y - P a s t ::
I wasn’t born into the life of luxury, I was luxury in a human form. My father was a business tycoon and my mother was a model. I am made of the best genetics as you can see. Growing up we moved around quite a bit with my fathers business. I never stayed at the same school for more than a year. As we moved I started noticing how horribly imperfect the other children were, some were fat, some were ugly, some were stupid then worst of all…some were average. But me, no, I was always far different. I was always the pretty boy at school, I got the best grades, had the best charm, lets face it I was indeed the best. All the other parents would faun “Why cant you be more like that Superbia boy?”
But money held no grounds for me, my fathers money was beneath me, so I left the family when I finally turned eighteen. I would rule this world with my perfection. How could anyone ever deny me anything I ever wanted. They were all servants in my book. Everyone was just dog s**t beneath my lovely boots so I have spent my entire life in solitude with only my music. I sing with the voice of a thousand angels and play the piano with more talent than even Beethoven could comprehend.
Finally I have found an apartment building with a decent enough rent to house my splendor and beauty. I get a floor all to myself, no sharing with the common folk. I have the best view and the best apartment. Who cares about the candy machine anyway, that was for the street rats. I will only eat the highest quality fruits and vegetables. I am vegetarian; I makes me a better person than you.
M y - W a y s ::
I am the most arrogant, pompous, self loving person you will ever meet. I only associate with people who treat me like the king…no…god that I am. If you want to be my friend then you better learn to grovel.
I like to spend my time with my piano or singing, I am the worlds biggest rock singer. My band is very famous. I’m sure you have heard of us. Everyone has.
If I’m not doing something with my musical talents than I am taking long walks in the graveyard. The acceptance of death all around my makes me wiser than all of mankind who fear and try to run from death, though if I could be a vampire I would do it so I could be in a far better race than mankind.
If you want to get to know me, you come to me. I never come to anyone else. EVER.
M y - P r e f e r e n c e ::
Seme, Im too good to be taken. But if you are really special I might make an exception.
M y - P l a y e r ::
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There were things strewn about the rooms floor as Ivan unpacked his things, he arrived late and knew it, but he was fashionably late, he knew it would make him more sophisticated than the others. The slow hymn of Beethoven’s moonlight sonata made its way out of the old Victorian style record player. He liked the way records sounded when played, it added a bit of character he thought. But don’t get him wrong, he had a working cd player that was top of the line; he had to have only the best so he could be the best. He could never let someone have better things than himself, that would lead people to presume they might almost be his equal. No, nobody was even near his level. He was just the best damn thing God had ever created. Was that too high on himself? No, he was only speaking the truth.
Ivan’s blue eyes glinted as he finished putting his more important treasures away. He hid a photo album out of sight, he didn’t want to see it. He didn’t want to face that he had become bitter and lonely in the cold world he created for himself, but he just could not accept anyone to be his equal, he never would, so he contented himself with sneers and cold remarks about others. He would try to socialize at least a little. He pulled his long hair into a high ponytail smirked to himself in the mirror. He knew he would make an impression on these imbeciles, whether they adored or hated him though, that was up to them and did he really care? Absolutely not, he couldn’t be bothered with their thoughts and feelings. As he gave his apartment another glance, he could not help but smile in pride, his floor was so nice, everything looked good, and he had the best view.
He tore his eyes away from the window and wandered to the wardrobe that sat across from his bed. He was starving and had to go get some breakfast, but first he had to make sure he looked his best. He felt like a king about to grace the common folk in his kingdom. He slipped his shirt over his pale, toned chest and did up the buttons one by one. He adored getting dressed, he liked the way the fabric moved over his skin, but that was his secret. He topped off his outfit with his favorite trench vest, the vest which was long in the back and allowed him to show off his sexy upper arms. He prided himself on his body and how he could dress to show it off without having to be mistaken as the lusty one of the house. Was that to bold of him to think? He went there, there was no going back now. He watched himself in the mirror and smiled, he popped a cigarette between his lips and lit it. He inhaled deeply as he admired himself in the mirror. He felt so gorgeous, he KNEW he was gorgeous. He loved how his a** looked in his pants, loved how everything looked better on him than anyone else in the world.
As he finished his cigarette, he tightened his ponytail so it looked less messy. He finally decided to make his way down to get some breakfast. He unfortunately had to make a decision now, whether to take the elevator or take the stairs, both had their ups and both had their downs. He was such an indecisive man under his flamboyant and arrogant exterior. After maybe five minutes of battling with himself over this, he decided to take the stairs. It seemed less likely to him that he would run into other people on them. He didn’t want to make small talk with the others just yet, not in a stairwell. It was such a ugly place, it would make him come off as normal. He just could not allow that. He took the steps one by one, not skipping a single one as he thought about the order of the residence. He wondered if there was anyone here that was going to worth his time and effort. But those thoughts quickly left his mind as he began to ponder the possibility of himself being a god in flesh.
As Ivan finally reached the bottom he could hear the others. He took a deep breath as he stepped out the doors. His harsh judging blue eyes travelled over the others, he had very clearly missed something. He was seemingly looking down his nose at them; mentally sizing them all up before he walked by them silently to sit away from them. He got himself some apple juice and sat down with one pancake on his plate. He would not want to ruin his perfect figure by over indulging in something. A disgusted sneer settled on his face as looked at the messy room. He had no doubts now that he had indeed missed something. His blue eyes settled on a blue haired man, he smirked slightly before returning to his food, not uttering a single word. If any of them wanted to talk they could approach him, he never started the conversation. That was below him. He felt like this was going to be a very long meal.
"Sin creates an inclination to sin;
it engenders vice by repetition of the same acts.
This results in perverse inclinations which cloud
conscience and corrupt the concrete judgment of
good and evil. Thus sin tends to reproduce itself and
reinforce itself, but it cannot destroy the moral sense
at its root."
