sample posts| DNP

[ghetto trash]

here is where my roleplay samples will reside.
should i ever need them, i suppose.
most of these are hella old.
am trying to put together a thread for newer ones.

here are one's i
cannot be bothered to
post, because they're ongoing or
there are too many posts

don of all things
for heaven's sake i know you're sorry (2009)

[ghetto trash]

from : peace& 2008





ghetto trash

_______


////////////////////////////////////yeah but nobody searches.
__________and nobody cares somehow.
........................when the loving that you've waisted.





• • • • • •

comes raining from a hapless cloud.





xxx Harrison lay on his bare back, he could feel the itch of the carpet against his skin. His knees were bent towards the ceiling of the room he'd been assigned. The belt of his jeans was missing and the button and zipper undone. His Calvin Klein under wear were white and visible. He'd given up, he didn't need to do more than fifty sit ups, not in jeans anyway. He stared at the white ceiling and slowly got up. He did his jeans up and put a black belt through the hoops before adding a close fitting white t-shirt. He'd not slept the night before, not matter what he did.

He missed home, and his sister, and Alex, the boy from his third period Literature class whom he'd fallen hard for. Harry honestly couldn't understand why his parents found his sexuality suck a big deal. His uncle on his mother's side was gay, and had been married in New Zealand the year before, they'd attended the wedding and everything. He sighed and pulled his black, battered high tops on. He didn't totally hate the "camp". Sure, the idea was insane, and the counselors horrible. But the other guys were no doubt hot. Harry had already caught himself watching a few times. He grinned to himself and added a hooded black jacket to his outfit, leaving the zip done up only half way. His hair could stay how it was - flat and slightly messy.

He often wondered what he would do when he got home. Would be pretend not to be gay? Just so his parents wouldn't hound him. Or would be prove that the camp was a stupid, insulting and a waste of time and lots of money? Maybe he'd move out, in fact, that idea seemed to be the best. Another thing he did, was write letters to his sister. He'd only been at Oasis for a few days, but he was already going crazy. Sure, they had everything here, but it was a mask. Of course, he couldn't mail the letters, and would even if he had the chance. A six year old girl, top of her class or not, wouldn't be able to understand what he was writing about.

His sister, Audrey, was adorable. She was the product of his father's second, and more successfully, marriage. As much as Harry despised his step mother, he did admit, and often, that the woman had good genes. His half sister was beautiful. She was one of the reasons he gave for the little gold letter 'A' that hung from a delicate chain of the same colour around his neck. The other was Alex. They'd actually been going out before Oasis, not one seemed to be able to stop them, until the brochure was given to Harry's parents. In secret, they'd swapped the initials. It was corny, but Harry liked it.

He ran a hand through his brown hair and rubbed his eyes, giving a slight sniff before he tucked one hand into his jean pocket and the other opened the door of his room. It was hotter in the hallway than in his room, but Harrison kept his hoodie, feeling slight self conscious around so many good looking people. He wasn't ugly, or overweight, but everyone here was spectacularly attractive. It annoyed harry a little, because, although he was attractive himself, he was one of those types who became intimidated by beauty. Not that it showed, he could have a conversation, but he just found it difficult to know what to say. He jumped off the last step, landing lightly on the balls of his feet and kept going, making his way towards the kitchen.

It was only then did he realise what it felt like to be under watch all the time. It felt like the way Big Brother looked. He'd only seen the show a few times, because his airhead of a stepmother liked it, but he'd made the connection. It was exactly like that, just with less narrow minded, trashy people. The kitchen even looked kind of like the one he'd seen back home. He frowned slightly and made his way over to the fridge. He hummed to himself as he grabbed for a box of strawberries and a bottle of orange juice. He grabbed himself a bowl and glass and stood at the bench. The green tops of the strawberries went into the bowl and the juice into the glass. When he'd finished, he gave everything a quick rinse and placed it in the drying rack. What a good boy. His grandmother would be so proud. He made his way back upstairs to brush his teeth and then to his room where he picked up his board shorts as well as a fluffy white towel. He would be swimming, like the three other mornings he had spent at Oasis.

Now, it was wide known fact that Harry was a true beach boy. His family lived across the road from the beach beach in his opinion. He loved salt water, he loved the colours, but of most things, he liked surfing, swimming, and topless boys, as well as bing without a shirt himself. The facility's pool would have to suffice, although it was nothing compared to the natural wonder that was the ocean. He whistled to himself as he jogged lightly down the stairs to make his way to the pool. He passed various people, nodding his hellos as he did so.

But when Harry had finally arrived, he could see someone else was already there. "s**t," He muttered. He'd change behind the big sandstone thing. He quickly whipped off his jeans and slipped his board shorts over his boxer briefs, he unzipped his hoodie, but he left the shirt on, just in case he started to feel awkward and ended up not going in the pool. He heard the boy speak, and recognised him to be Rudy. He smiled when he noticed that Ruby wasn't talking to himself, but one of the cats. It was the one that Harry had grown rather attached to, because it looked like a cat he used to have. He walked in casually and put his things down quietly. "That's cute," He said, a smile in his voice as he wondered a little closer to the other boy. "Funny he's here though, would've though all the cat's would shy away from the pool." He shrugged and tried to be discrete about removing his shirt. Rudy was okay, he wasn't a counselor, after all, so Harry felt okay about swimming in front of him. Let's face it though, showing off was in Harrison's nature.

He lowed himself into the pool from the deep end and when the water was over his head, he kicked off the side of the pool, shooting forward. It didn't take him long to finish the length of the pool, tumble turn and shoot his way back across. But he stopped halfway. In the short time Harry had been in the water, he'd been thinking about what to say. It would seem odd of him, to talk about the cat and then just swim while ignoring Rudy - wouldn't it? He wasn't sure, but he decided to ask the harmless question anyway. "So, how have your first few days been here on planet Don't be a Gay-Boy?" He asked the boy, before he swam, his head above the water back to the shallow end to sit on the steps in the water to wait for an answer, watching Rudy and the kitten with his head cocked slightly to the side.




• • • • • •

00C; PHAIL POST. But it's up and done.

[ghetto trash]

from: it had to be you; 2008

ghetto trash

✿xxxxxxx.xxxxxcharlotterosedavisoo
cнαяιiє.oxxo

Charlotte was excited, to say the least. She’d been up since four in the morning just because she couldn’t sleep for anticipation. She was finally getting out of the country and wasn’t going on a ban tour. She was pretty happy that her brother was going with her as well; at least she wouldn’t be alone. One problem stood in her way though, and that was Asher’s best friend. Charlie really had no idea how someone as sweet, caring and generally nice could befriend someone like the spoilt and obnoxious Wesley, they were too different, even for their friendship to just be one of those ‘kookie’ things that seemed to happen. Still Charlotte liked to think that Wes’ genuine like for her brother was a sort of redeeming quality in the boy – even if he had leered at her on more than one occasion.

She stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped tightly around her small frame. It was almost time. She smiled brightly and quickly made her way to her bedroom to dry, dress and triple check her bags. She wasn’t taking much, but she had filled two large cases and one smaller backpack – she was prepared, to say the least. Pulling on a pair of black short shorts and a plain off white crew-neck t-shirt, it wasn’t warm outside, but the chill of the wind didn’t really phase Charlotte, and she would take a jacket just in case. After quickly looking over her bags, she ran down the hall barefoot and skidded to a halt at her brother’s bedroom door. "Asher!" She called before opening the door and bounding into the room excitedly. "Hurry up sleepy head! Get dressed; eat, come on, Carl’s driving us to the airport!" She said, picking up her brother’s feet from the end of the room and shaking them a few times before she yanked the covers off his body. That would wake him up. "Come on Ash, I wanna get going," She told him before she left the room, leaving the door open for the cat to enter and claw at his feet and arms until the eighteen year old fair haired boy got up and out of bed.

Carl was the family driver. Yes, they had a driver. He had been with them ever since Charlotte could remember, and was in his early sixties and more a part of the family rather than ‘the help’ in Charlie’s eyes. That was likely to change when she learnt that he too was in on the ‘scheme’. She grabbed one of the two cases from her bedroom and swung her backpack over her shoulder; she then picked up the second case and started slowly down the stairs to place them by the door. One her way back through the house, she picked up an apple and bit into it she was so ready to get out of routine living.

Break thing here

Sitting in the car just waiting for her brother to finish getting ready was a nightmare and most certainly keeping Charlotte on the edge of her seat. When he finally got in the car, she gave him a look and an unhappy sigh, he only shrugged in reply. Rolling her eyes, Charlotte sunk back into her seat and settled in for the drive. She wasn’t aware that it would take a lot longer than she expected. Try four hours, rather than the twenty minutes it would take to get to the airport. But Carl had informed her when she’d realised something was wrong that they were going to the rural airport for a reason he wasn’t aware of, because he was merely a driver. Rural was right. Airport was not.

They rolled past a few small towns and Charlotte was starting to get slightly suspicious. It was only when they stopped at a gate of what looked to be a farm did she nearly loose her cool. She looked at Carl accusingly as he shrugged. "I’m sorry Charlie, I was only doing my job – but the place has baby animals. Isn’t that lovely?" He said, trying to distract her anger. "You were supposed to be my friend Carl," She said dramatically as she got out of the car, closing the door loudly, but not slamming it. She knew Asher would be laughing at her performance had he not been so confused and disappointed himself.


ooc | i agree.
sorry for the wait and horrible post.
i'll have one up for asher soon.

[ghetto trash]

both from: be my very own constellation `[♥]; 2008

ghetto trash

i listened in yes, i'm guilty of this you should know this
i brokedown and wrote you back before you had a chance to forget,
forgotten, i am moving past this giving notice. i have to go yes, i know
the feeling, know you're leaving

i ' m xx c a p s i z e d xx s t a r i n g xx o n xx t h e xx e d g e xx o f xxs a f e

Jared had kids. Of that fact, Cadence was well aware. And, even if she didn’t know their names, she didn’t know their mother’s - or at least what she seemed to be referred to as, she was sure it was a pet name – Kenzi. Cadence really didn’t know what to think anymore. It wasn’t as thought Jared would just leave his two kids and his girlfriend for her, because all Cadence seemed to be was some convenient fun, she always had been. And at first, she was actually okay with that. She’d never been good at relationships, so and friend’s (or even less than that) with benefits kind of thing seemed to work for her most of the time. Until she got attached. She rolled over on her queen sized bed and opened her eyes to what was a way too early start to her day. Now facing her beeping alarm clock, she gathered enough strength to hit the snooze button, and she knew it would only take four minutes for the stupid thing to start screaming at her once more. Having been a gift from her step brother, Todd, it was a recording of his voice screeching at her in an imitation of his mother’s voice for her to get out of bed. Honestly, Cadence didn’t even know why she still had the bloody thing.

Pushing herself up off the bed and seeing a smudge of last night’s makeup, Cadence knew that her day was going to be long, and probably a s**t one. They always were. She’d been referred to fondly by friends and relatives as a night owl. And not so fondly by a few heart broken girls as a slut. She didn’t really care, she’d only ever really slept with other girl’s boyfriends once or twice, it wasn’t something she did for fun (lies) but more because trouble seemed to follow her like a stubborn stain. She could never find a nice guy for herself, because they were always taken by nasty and ungrateful bitches. She wiped under her eyes and managed to wipe of a little of the dark eye make up she hadn’t bothered to clean off before bed. She wiped her finger on her dirtying white singlet top and pulled a pair of old baggy tracksuit pants over her legs and underwear before leaving her bedroom to bum around the rest of her tragically chic apartment. That was the upside to having a rich father. The downside was that it cost a lot to keep the place shining and liveable, hence the tragic part.

She picked up a large hooded jacket from the couch and slipped it on, pulling the hood up to keep her ears warm. She thought about cleaning the place up, at least a little, but the thought depressed her slightly. If only she had a cleaner. The girl was probably not ready to live alone just yet. She’d managed well with roommates, but now she was on her own, the place was slowly turning into a pig’s sty. Gathering up all the dirty clothes as she walked through the living space and the bathroom, she chucked them into a steadily growing pile of dirty clothes. She’d take them to the laundromat later and the give kid from down the hall twenty bucks to watch her things till she got back from grocery shopping. They had a good system running. But first, Cadence needed food. Food and coffee. And maybe some pain killers, just for the sake of it. A mild hangover was hardly and excuse to take the things (and she didn't even have one), but Cadence had never really needed an excuse. For a sweet girl, Cadence was a slob, and a bit of an abuser of alcohol and perscription drugs. But everyone had their faults. Another on of hers would be her apparent and misfortunate liking for men with girlfriends. But one with kids? Well, that was new to her.

Speaking of kids… Well, Cadence had a test sitting snugly in her handbag, unopened. She had the feeling that she and Jared might have forgotten about protection at one point or another, plus she’d been feeling unwell for a few days. She’d bought it a few days ago, but hadn’t gotten around to actually taking the thing. She hadn’t been busy; she’d just been avoiding it. It was like being in high school all over again, but with different, and more serious circumstances. She knew that she would have to take the test eventually, and she wouldn’t be able to get away from it too much longer, but she wanted to put it off for as long as she could. Yeah, high school, but with real life issues. Nioce.

She grabbed a small white cardboard box out of the pantry and a loaf of break, along with butter and honey. She set the kettle to boil and pulled out a plunger from a cupboard. The coffee followed, Italian roast. She pushed two white tablets out of the box and set them down neatly on the black laminex bench. The kettle screeched and she poured the water slowly into the plunger, on top of the coffee. She grabbed out two slices of bread and put them into the toaster. Routine was starting to get boring. She needed something to do. She would take the test, but she wanted to get a second, just to be sure. Gently, she pressed down the plunger lid, slowly, to make sure the coffee was perfect and not rushed, filled with air she didn’t need, or want. When it was ready, she poured it into a mug, and added the tiniest dash of milk and a teaspoon of sugar. Lifting the mug to her mouth, the smell almost repulsed her. She wrinkled her nose and almost violently placed the mug back down on the bench. What the ********? Coffee was what kept her going, she loved the stuff, and a lot of the time, it was like a life line. Some days it was the only reasons she would get out of bed. She poured it down the sink. Her body was ******** up – big time. The pills quickly followed the coffee and toast popped up from inside the toaster - that she could deal with. She quickly spread the butter and honey on it and rushed to eat her breakfast.

Grabbing her handbag, Cadence rushed to the bathroom and kicked off her pants. She read through the instructions quickly and followed through with them in a hurry. Probably not a good idea. She sat there for the allocated time, well, almost. A minute before the test would tell her if she was pregnant or not, she grabbed it, interrupting it and watching it fade. [/********] She said quietly. She really didn’t want to know. But at least now she had a reason for two things. One, to go to the Laundromat so her clothes would clean while she bought another test, and the second would be to contact Jared, something she’d never done before, she usually let him come to her.

Pulling her phone out of the jeans she’d worn the night before, she wrote a message in a hurry:

i need to see you.
important.

She found Jared’s name and pressed send. No, this wasn’t a booty call. Far from it. She probably wouldn’t end up telling him anyway. She’d just turn it into some kind of paranoia. In fact, she wouldn’t have been surprised if she wasn’t even pregnant. Either way, she did need to see him, whether he found out about her “problem” or not. This was not good, things were better when she was emotionally detached from him, and only in it for the sex.

With a sigh, Cadence collected her dirty laundry and shoved it all into a large grey garbage bag. One thing she didn’t have was a washing machine. She needed to get onto that. She dressed in a pair of tight black jeans and a plain white, loose t-shirt. She added a black vest and a pair of large sunglasses along with her metallic silver converse high-tops, a silver necklace and bangle and she was set. Picking up her keys, wallet, mp3 player and phone on the way out, she slipped them into her pockets. She didn’t bother with a bag; she already had to carry the washing. She walked a little way down the hall after locking her apartment and knocked on the door. Sure enough, a thirteen year old boy answered the door and Cadence lifted the bag. “You busy kid?” She asked, her voice was tired and cracked a little, being the first time she’d spoken that morning; but her Australian accent was still very noticeable, as it was in everything she said. She knew the name of said teenager; but kid was just easier, and used in an affectionate kind of way. “I’ve upped my price,” The kid told her, his hands in his pockets. “You sound like a hooker,” Cadence informed him, “You know you love it, toots,” Came the greasy haired boy’s reply. Cadence shuddered, and mouthed ‘what the ********?’ in reply before turning around and making her way down the hall. She could watch her own washing for free then. It wouldn’t take long. Although she’d probably get bored.

Walking down the steps, Cadence pulled out her mp3 player and turned it on, listening to whatever started playing. Cringing at the lyrics to the song (Divorcee by Twenty Three, lyrics: “well it seems you've got a baby girl to a man who will not love you well” by Clare Bowditch and The Feeding Set) she quickly changed it. Scary thought, having kids at her age. Cadence was really starting to think that stopping that test might not have been the greatest of ideas. Still, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Would knowing really be better than not? Probably, but let the girl console herself until she figures things out – please and thank you.

It didn’t take her long to get to the Laundromat; she drove there in her hand me down, beat up old VW beetle. Not the flashiest of cars, but she loved it all the same. Hopping out and pulling the heavy bag out of the passenger seat, she quickly ran into the coin Laundromat and shoved everything she could form the bag into one machine, and then a second. She had other things on her mind and had never really understood the whole process of separating clothes. Such things usually came back to bite her in the arse, but she slotted the coins in without thinking and set them to wash before leaving the place and going into the pharmacy next door.

It was the same girl as the other day, and when Cadence rocked up to the counter with yet another pregnancy test, she got a look. A look from a pimply teenage girl who obviously thought she was better than a possibly pregnant and highly confused Cadence. She didn’t give the girl and explanation, or even one of her slightly awkward smiles. She just paid for what she needed to and walked out of the shop, thanking her lucky stars that when she got back to the Laundromat, no one had stolen her clothes.

With the test held tight in her left hand, and using it to tap against her right foot (her ankle was rested on top of her left knee), Cadence waited for her clothes to be done so she could put them in a dryer, that and on a reply from Jared, although she wasn’t really expecting one any time soon. She tried to keep her mind off the pregnancy test, but having not bought a bag with her, she had no where to put it other than the big garbage bin bag she’d held her clothes in, and she knew she’d just forget about it there. So it stayed in her hand, with her fist clamped down tight around it and her foot being lightly hit with it repeatedly. She let her mp3 player continue to play as she watched the machines make whirlwinds of her clothes.

Waiting wasn’t fun, and Cadence was starting to get impatient. But we all know that it wasn’t the clothes she was waiting on.



{ooc; that was horrid pittyful. sorry. had no idea what to write, so i hope this is okay.... }




xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxsongs used in layout:
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxthe con, back in your head - both by tegan and sara.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxalmost lover - by a fine frenzy/alison sudol

ghetto trash

i listened in yes, i'm guilty of this you should know this
i brokedown and wrote you back before you had a chance to forget,
forgotten, i am moving past this giving notice i have to go yes, i know
the feeling know you're leaving

i ' m xx c a p s i z e d xx s t a r i n g xx o n xx t h e xx e d g e xx o f xxs a f e

Cadence’s phone went off in her hand. She didn’t notice until someone was throwing daggers her way, namely, a little kid with eyes that could burn. She blinked a few times and flipped the stupid thing open. She saw who it was from and gave a slow sigh. Opening the text, she was already prepared to be disappointed, she knew it was his day off, and that he'd be spending it with his - shudder - family. And she was. Kind of. She read over it a few times before she started on sending a reply. She couldn’t exactly tell him what was wrong via text message; she didn’t think it was appropriate. And for a girl who had a liking of things (and people) who weren’t hers, she was not lacking in class, fashion, etiquette or otherwise. Taking a deep breath, the twenty year old brunette started to write her reply.

nothing – yet.
not something i want
to figure out like this.
so whenever you think
you have the time,
come and see me.

Well, that read slightly bitchy. Cadence didn’t think of that after she’d sent it though. At first she thought about writing another one, to make up for what sounded like resentment, but then she decided that she didn’t want to waste her time on someone who wouldn’t waste his on hers. Oh god, she was really not herself. She might not even be there if and when he decided to show up, but either way, she did need to se him. This was important after all. Cadence never really knew how to make friends in a new place, and she was guessing that if she really was pregnant what she thought she was, it wouldn’t be a good start. Actually, it’d be a really ******** shitty start. Not something she’d thought about until now.

And it seemed as though Karama really did exist; because when she pulled her wet clothes out of one machine, she’d found out what the true consequences of not bothering to separate clothes was. All her delicates and most of her light coloured clothing had been turned pink or worse by her new-no-longer-favourite red tee shirt (which still had it’s full colour – annoyingly). She moved that load into the dryer and went to inspect the damage of the rest of her things. Nothing else was mutated in any which way, thankfully. At least all that had been were tee shirts, and nothing expensive – she always took such things to dry cleaners anyway, but it was still inconvenient and dampened her spirit further. She’d need to stop somewhere on the way home and get a few new tops then. Just another excuse to spend money. Hey, she had it.

Because contrary to popular belief Cadence actually held a steady job – and it didn’t pay too badly either. She worked for a small Australian record label which went by the name of Boomtown Records. She’d spent the previous year in the UK scooping out talent, and now it was her turn to do the same in the States. Needless to say, she was ******** brilliant at what she did. The last band she’d singed was pretty popular in the underground and alternative scenes. Which was weird, because most of the bands the company managed and produced where hardcore, spray on pants and eyeliner wearing nineteen to twenty something year olds. Extremely good looking hardcore, spray on pants and eyeliner wearing nineteen to twenty something year olds mind you. But that was beside the point – she’d never go there, it was more trouble than a few guys in too tight jeans with their undies hanging out were worth.

Her job was another reason to worry. She couldn’t travel and live the way she liked to if she was going to have a kid. And that scared here. She was happy with the way she lived. Showcase parties, travelling, dirty pubs, loud bars, crowded clubs, alcohol flowing through her system (although not usually when she was “on the job”). And then there were the parts that didn’t involve work at all. The parts she seemed to be most attached to. Guys who made her feel like s**t – she couldn’t seem to give them up or break the chain. Men who made her feel like second grade trash (yes, trash did come in grades – thank you very much). And yet, she always fell for them. It happened to the nicest of girls. Just more often to Cadence. But bad habits (and bad love-life) or not, she was comfortable with the way she lived. And that was the moment when Cadence decided she wanted to know. Whether she’d tell Jared or not would be a different story all together. But she wanted to know, for her own sake. And in that moment, with her hands on her hips and her washing spinning pink in two separate driers was when she made up her mind. Otherwise it would be slowly eating away at her until it got too late to do anything or think anything through – or to tell Jared, if she did.

So there it was, a picture of a tall, slim, brunette Australian twenty year old female in slightly unfamiliar (mental) territory, pulling her half dry washing out of a coin operated machine and stuffing it all into one big plastic bag, leaving the Laundromat and running to her car.

With all that worrying going on, Cadence wasn’t watching where she was going. She was fumbling with her phone, half starting to write another pathetic text to Jared, her washing practically dragging behind her as she started towards her car. She’d made it safely down the step outside the Laundromat, now just to get to her car. But it seemed as though something (or rather – someone – ) else had other plans for her.

She collided with another person, and a fountain of swear words spilt from her pretty lips before she started apologising and picking up what had spilt of her washing onto the path. Great, now her clothes were pink and dirty. Things never went Cadence’s way.

“Sorry about that...” She mumbled, before she finally looked up to see who she’d run into and how much damage she’d caused. “Lori…? Lorianne - right?” She said, pushing her hair out of her eyes. Cadence didn’t even know how she’d met the girl, but she did know that she was undoubtedly very cool. Hell, Cadence didn’t even know if she’d spoken the right name, it just kind of tripped over the edge of her mouth. It would be ******** awkward if it wasn’t the same girl she was thinking of…






{ooc; there syd; edited - HAPPY!?!?
you can figure out how the ******** they know one another.
xD
i am so ******** confused... sall your fault sydney!}

[ghetto trash]

both from: HEAVEN sent & HELL bound. { A & B }; 2008

ghetto trash

{ come with me. come with me }
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxwe'll travel toxi n f i n i t y.

There were a few things about Charlotte, that, according to her closest female friends were simply not normal for a girl her age. One was that she played a little too much sport, another was the state of her room (the floor was barely visible) and lastly, the fact that she seemed to enjoy the company of boys over girls, and not for any ulterior kind of motives. On the odd occasion, her sleeping habits had also been mentioned, but Charlie was sure that anyone her age, regardless of gender would sleep in as much as they could – which was exactly the reason for Charlotte getting to school late most mornings. But Charlotte enjoyed sleep. She often slept curled up in a tight ball in among the mountain of doona covers and various blankets, and one hand tucked underneath her head. This would be how Adonis would find her. Most people knew not to wake her until it was really out of hand (say 10am) or there was something important going on. In conclusion, her father had forgotten there was a third teenager living under his roof who needed to be shown around the place, and her brother just didn’t care. However, apparently someone else did. Not necessarily for Charlotte’s sake, but more for their own. She felt a prod at her forehead, and some mumbling, but she didn’t properly wake up until the person (who she’d figured out to be Adonis – not that it was hard to figure out with the accent and all) was out of the room. "No need to swear," She told them unenthusiastically (knowing full well that he’d probably picked up her habit of using ‘dirty’ words unnecessarily ) as she rolled out of bed, her bare feet hitting not the floor, but the clothes she’d worn the previous day.

Out of that pile, she fished a pair of black jeans and her bra, everything else would be clean on that morning, she wasn’t an actual boy, she didn’t feel the need to (like her brother) wear the same pair of underwear for as many days in a row as possible. Her three older brothers who had now moved out of home had been trained up by their girlfriends (and a boyfriend) long a go that such behaviour was unacceptable. So, with that, Charlie opened up her wardrobe door and flicked through the various t-shirts, eventually choosing one which proudly displayed her favourite childhood movie, Gremlins. It was black and relatively fitted, not something she wore often. Deciding that she’d shower when she got home (she was running late as it was), she tugged her slightly baggy straight legged black jeans on, did her bra up underneath the shirt she’d worn to bed before removing said shirt, and then pulling her beloved Gremlin’s top on. A pair of beaten up black converse high-tops soon followed, as did a careless (but painful) run of her hair brush through her fiery mane. She took a quick look at herself in the full length mirror, and decided that her outfit was good enough and quickly grabbed her phone, wallet and school bag.

Now, sliding down the hand rail was a hell of a lot quickly than taking the stairs, and yes, Charlie had made a habit of doing so. "Todd, you’re gonna be late!" She called to her brother as she sat down on the wooden rail and moved down the flight of stairs with relative speed. Jumping off the end, she nearly tripped. She regained her balance and ran into the kitchen, grabbing the money her father had left her for lunch and an apple. She counted the money, good – it was double, she wasn’t sure if Adonis would eat or not, he seemed to go out of his way to be sulky teenage boy. Not fun at all.

Running out the door at full speed, it took all of Charlotte’s power not to run into Adonis, and his sister… They were twins – right? She couldn’t even remember the girl’s name. "There you are!" She said, acting as though she’d spent time looking for him. "Where’d you think you were gonna go? Do you even know the way to school from here?" She asked, knowing that he didn’t. She rolled her eyes and smiled, biting into her apple.

"Gosh, is he like that all the time? Impatient I mean..." She asked the boy’s twin, whose name she still hadn’t recalled. Now, most girls would be intimidated by the Italian girl. She was beautiful, and gave an almost stand-offish feel, but Charlotte, as the twins would probably come to realise, wasn’t like most girls. "Are you waiting for your host, or do you want me to show you, um, the school?" She asked the girl before taking another bite of her apple. "Oh, and my dad told me to give you some of my lunch money, so, erm, yeah, here. It’s not much, but the school’s food is pretty ******** horrible anyway," With that, Charlie fished into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a five dollar note, holding it out to the boy. Yeah, it wouldn’t buy anything from the over priced, shitty school cafeteria, but she was just doing as she was told..



ooc blarg @ post.
hope this isn't too s**t.

xo

ghetto trash

{ come with me. come with me }
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxwe'll travel toxi n f i n i t y.

Well, the two Italian exchange students had to be the strangest people Charlotte Davis had ever met. She would give them that. She was slightly offended by Adonis’ reaction to her, he was just a sulky brat after all, but she brushed it off, muttering something of ‘more for me then,’ before stuffing the money into the pocket of her jeans. It looked like, if Todd didn’t show up, she’d be walking to school alone. And most certainly would be late.

Now, Charlie wasn’t an ignorant person, so what the female twin had done came across as very strange. She’d met Italian people before, and not one of them had been so fascinated by her hair. In fact, people in the north of Italy tended to have red hair too, just of deeper colour – according to one of Charlotte’s various ‘ex-step-mothers’. Charlie put the girl’s action down to a plainly curious personality. It was still weird, and something along the lines of what was to be expected from a four year old. Shrugging and adjusting her backpack, she finished her apple and stared at her watch, no point in rushing now, she’d wait for Todd to get a lift to school. It wasn’t like she’d not been late before. And detention didn’t seem to ever stop her from getting home at exactly 3.40pm every week day. Today would be no different.

She’d need to steer clear of the kitchen though. She wouldn’t want to accidentally allow herself to tip chilli flakes into Adonis’ next meal – just as a slight payback practical joke. Although she’d brushed off his actions, she was still feeling a slight sting, Charlie wasn’t a person who was used to that kind of behaviour – at least not when it was directed at her.

With a low grumble, and a louder screeching type of sound, Charlotte knew that Todd was (finally) out of the house. The car slowed to a stop beside her and she slipped in silently. "Where’d that frog go off to then?" He asked. Rolling her eyes, Charlie corrected her brother, 'frog' was a derogatory term for Frenchmen, Adonis was Italian. Her brother simply continued driving to the school and as soon as they had parked, Charlie jumped out. "Your car stinks, no wonder you never get a date – wait – no, sorry, that would be your personality that lets you down, sorry," She said, slamming the door. "What the hell’s wrong with you? You get burrrrned?" He asked with a chuckle, throwing her a soccer ball across the car park. "You’re a douche bag, you know that?" She replied, tucking the ball under her right arm."Yeah, yeah, whatever, meet you at lunch, two on two, be there, looser" And with that. The siblings parted ways. Todd would go to PE, and Charlotte would be stuck in Math – if she bothered to go that was.

xo

[ghetto trash]

all from: whatever gets you through the night; 2008

ghetto trash

she's such a teaser, she's such a star.
give me a reason or gimme a chance.

『 тнιs ιs wнaт тнє wσяℓ∂ ιs ƒoя 』

always up for a laugh.
she's a pain in the arse.
but every time that we meet....

i xo s k i p xo a xo h e a r t b e a t.

There was absolutely no doubt in Oliver Davis’ mind that this next month would be nothing short of interesting. Throw in dramatic, hectic, over the top and a little frightening at times, and you would be a little closer to what the eighteen year old bassist was expecting. He of course, would try to keep to himself, which, frankly, would be hard at all, seeing as it was what he usually did anyway. That did not mean, in any way at all, that he was happy about the whole… arrangement. Apparently, his parent’s didn’t trust him to get there on his own, and were having his older brother, Jason drive him to the beach house. At least she could rub the fact that he would be spending a month on the beach, while his brother (who loved to surf) would be working his arse off doing whatever the hell it was that the twenty year old did. With a slam of the boot door, a dramatic Oliver slid into the car. Well, it was dramatic for him. Once his seatbelt was on securely, he sunk in his seat, refusing to look out the window and wave goodbye to his blank faced father and his highly amused mother. They could shove it. He wasn’t happy with them. As for Jason… Well, the older boy was smirking his not so ugly face off. 'Come-on baby brother, lighten up. I mean, think about it – you’re going to be living at a beach, and none of those girls are short of hot, so why you so pissed?' Oliver shot his brother a ‘look’. Half of those girl’s were like sisters to him, and the others… Well, he just wouldn’t dare go there.

He didn’t think.

"Suit yerself then," He drawled, pressing play on whatever CD was in the player and settled in for the drive. At least the two could agree on music; Pink Floyd’s ‘Wish You Were Here’ album started up and Oliver rested his head against the glass of the window, wondering how the hell he would survive the coming month – and the predicted aftermath.

When they did finally arrive, Oliver was highly reluctant in getting out of the car. His hand hesitated on the handle, and his eyes started curiously yet cautiously at the front door of the beach house. It was a nice place; but probably only to look at. Whatever went on inside the house would defiantly be a different story. Honestly, Oliver didn’t really know why one Earth anyone could think that putting the two (former friendly) bands in the one house. The ‘feud’ was known among their fans and this little experiment would certainly not help things – at all. "You getting’ out or what?" Jason’s rough voice cut through the air, bringing Oliver away from his thoughts, and back to reality. He would have to go in.

"You couldn’t just – keep driving, could you?" He asked hopefully, slowly turning to face his older brother. The smile playing on the dark haired male’s face gave Oliver his answer. "Funnily enough – mum scares me more than you do, get the ******** out and I’ll se you in a month." Lovely Oliver thought to himself as his brother popped the boot. "Goon – get!" Jeesh, no need to act like he was a dog! Oliver sighed and opened the door, using his leg to push it all the way open, and stepped out, silver high top clad feet first. The rest of his body followed. He wore old black jeans, a white shirt and a grey pin stripe vest. Carefully, he flattened his top against his stomach and took his time walking around to the back of the car to gather his things.

Two suitcases and three backpacks. Oliver was known by his family and friends for over packing. He made a habit out of it – rather a paranoid boy. He did his weird nose scrunch absent-mindedly and stepped away from the car, shutting the boot. "Don’t forget your meds," Jason called, throwing a small white container out the window at his iron lacking brother and waved goodbye, beeping the horn of the car as he did so. "Vitamins – idiot. Not medication," Oliver informed the small dust cloud that had taken the place of his brother’s car. With his bags sitting at his feet, Oliver contemplated exactly how he would manage… This.

Getting four objects inside at once would prove to be a large task for the slightly scrawny eighteen year old boy. A task that would require mental balance and physical skill. Not really, well, maybe the balancing part. Unfortunately, he would also need to get past looking stupid. With a shrug and another scrunch of his nose, Oliver slipped one backpack on normally, a second on his front and the third followed, with one strap over his shoulder. This left one hand free for each suit case. There – that wasn’t so bad. Walking up to the house however – Oliver caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of one of the windows. His face fell – although, it hadn’t been too bright in the first place and he stopped walking for a moment to examine himself. Well, didn’t he look – stupid..?

He flicked his hair off of his face and did as much as he could to tidy his appearance slightly before actually entering the house. Of course, all his work was undone by the backpacks and suit cased. "Hellooooo…?" He called, hearing his voice bounce off the walls around him. He would claim a room, and then search for his band mates. He’d rather see them before he saw the others. So, with his bags hanging off his lanky body, Oliver climbed the stairs, relatively unnoticed. He always went unnoticed. After dumping his things in one of the rooms that wasn’t occupying any luggage, he made his way back down the stairs and found himself the kitchen, looking for a drink of water. When he saw Chester and Mindy, both with lots of what looked like ice pressed to his body, Oliver mentally sighed. I so should have been a ninja he told himself. He looked in a few cupboards before giving up on finding a glass and turned the sink tap on. He stuck his mouth just under the flow and collected a mouthful. He drank, turned the tap off and stood up straight, wiping his mouth slowly, thinking of what to say now that he was in the kitchen and faced with real live, actual people.

"Hello Mindy, dear," He said with a smile. He turned his head to Chester and nodded his head slightly, acknowledging the other male, but didn’t bother to speak, he would probably just offend the guy – and by the looks of things, he didn’t want to be doing that. "So… What did you do to yourself?" He asked the girl, moving across the room to lean against the door frame.

Was he setting himself up for a quick escape?

You ******** bet.








|[ ooc ]| --layout subject to change.
:]

『 maкιng єℓєcтяιcιтy 』

ghetto trash

she's such a teaser, she's such a star.
give me a reason or gimme a chance.

『 тнιs ιs wнaт тнє wσяℓ∂ ιs ƒoя 』

always up for a laugh.
she's a pain in the arse.
but every time that we meet....

i xo s k i p xo a xo h e a r t b e a t.

Oliver was feeling rather awkward.

He was an awkward looking kid anyway, so it wasn’t really too surprising. He looked down at his metallic material clad feet as a cold silence filled the room and burned his ears. Well, it was not the start that he had predicted, but a hostile one all the same. Then again, he had arrived at the dying down end of the fireworks; he’d missed the excitement – or would that be violence? He slipped his lightly tanned, olive coloured hands into his jean pockets and looked up from his feet, his eyes dancing lightly between his friend, Mindy, and his former friend, Chester. Only after these few agonisingly silent moments did Mindy give him a reply. "Nothing fell over," the girl muttered. Well, wasn’t that a conversation non-starter? He sighed lightly and leaned further into the door frame, wondering if it would grant him his wish and swallow him up for a month, only to spit his preserved body out when it was all over and time to go home.

One thing that really worried Oliver was not what the bands would do to one another, but what this month to come would do to each band. What if they all got so sick of each other, trying to stop fights erupting, and getting up in one another’s way (although they had managed to tour as bands – this was different) and they didn’t want to speak to one another. It would suck if the bands busted up. Although he would never admit it, Oliver rather liked the music Case of the Monday’s put out. He even had a few songs on his iPod, disgusted as the musical stylings of Enya, who he’d never actually listened to in his life. It would be horrendous if anything happened on a scale that dramatic. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself. He wouldn’t be able to get a job with his only skill being a musician. He could always teach… It’d be that or work for his father. He’d rather join the army, at that rate.

His depressing thoughts were soon distracted. He caught a flash of flesh and brown hair. Long light brown hair. His eyes flickered from where they had been settled (the sink) and focused on the source of his distraction. See, now this was why Oliver didn’t like to think about Payton. As if the tingling feeling along his arms, and the sweat on the back of his legs wasn’t already enough – she was wearing her bathing suit. Now that tingly feeling was also located in his pants. Luckily it was nothing more than that; although, had she not been wearing those boardies, a different story may have been…. Noticeable. ******** yes he’d be going swimming now. Once he regained his sensibility that was. s**t, why the ******** did she have to be… There. Right, that was why. She was a part of Case of the ******** Monday’s. This was not good. He nodded in reply to her "Hey guys," knowing full well that he would stutter in any attempts to speak.

He pulled his hands out of his pockets and crossed them in front of his chest; ignoring her comment about Dexter. If she didn’t open her mouth, she’d be perfect. No, that was mean. He just wouldn’t listen. His eyes followed her across the kitchen and he tried ever so badly not to watch her as she searched in the fridge. Damnit! A girl like Payton just screamed (weather she knew it or not) to be looked at, to be watched. Or maybe it was just Oliver’s excuse. But both Chester and Mindy were there, so he continued to move his eyes across to the sink and then out the kitchen window.

Now that he thought about it, the pool did seem like a good idea. Of course, it was probably only the fact that Payton had pointed it out that caused Oliver to think that. He’d think anything she said was a good idea. Stupid hormones Oliver; so helplessly and hormonally deranged.

His mind was set, the pool it was, even if he didn’t end up getting in. Of course, his heart fell a little when Chester beat him to the punch (no pun intended there), but he did now have a reason for going. He turned his head slightly to face Mindy "I’ll go if you will," He said with a shrug, they were now the only two left in the kitchen. He said, waiting for her reply. "I’m gonna go get changed, and when I come back, I hope you’ll at the very least come outside with me. You’ll be my only ally out there," He said with a slight chuckle before turning on his heel and walking back up to his room.

Leaning into the door to open it, Oliver scanned his bags, trying to remember if his board shorts were in a pack, or a suit case. He opted for the second of the options. Lifting a heavy suitcase (lucky he made a habit of carrying his own amps); he flung it onto the bed and unzipped it. There they were, lying at the top. Lucky guess, Oli. He pulled them out, along with a towel and unzipped his jeans. He slipped off his shoes and pulled on the shorts, then proceeding to tug his shirt up and over his head; flat, hidden muscles flexing as he did so. Not so scrawny without clothes on, are we Oliver?

With that done, Oliver left his clothes on the floor and kicked his shoes aside so he wouldn’t trip over them later. He flung his towel over his shoulder and went back downstairs to the kitchen. "Come on then," He said, grabbing Mindy by the hand, not giving her time for protest and walked her outside, hoping that no one did indeed try to drown anyone else. He plopped his friend down on one of the sun chairs and dropped his towel to the ground. Well, now that he was out there, he didn’t really know what to do.

Yes, he did know how to swim.

He looked around, should he say anything – to anyone? To Payton? He chewed on his bottom lip slightly and did his funny nose scrunch thing. Everyone, in both bands knew the story behind the weird, face altering action that occasionally graced Oliver’s features. The after effects of a septum piercing that had since been removed. He just turned to the brunette, gave her a soft smile and nodded. Then to Mindy, just for good measure, to make sure she hadn’t left him already; he expected that she should sooner or later. Now to dive into the pool and hope that his board shorts, hanging low on his hips didn’t come off when he did so.

He would be the only one in the pool.

To bad, he was used to being a loner.

He stretched his lightly toned (from heavy equipment carrying), olive skinned and slightly tanned arms above his head and bent his knees slightly. He sprung from his feet and gracefully entered the water, no splashes what so ever. Thank you swim squad training.

Thanks to squad training, hate towards loose fitting and low hanging board shorts. He knew it would happen. It always seemed to happen, but only to him. Oliver came up from the water, his board shorts floating at the other end, he swum the entire length naked. s**t, what the hell would he do now?

He couldn’t go back to them, everyone would see his… Bits. He felt a heat rising up his neck and his cheeks reddening. He was blushing pretty badly. He swam over to the edge near the girls, hiding himself with the wall, his arms resting on the concrete and his chin on his arms. "Well, I guess skinny dipping isn’t out of the question then, is it?" He said, trying to make light of the situation, knowing full well that his check were still burning, and his Quicksilver boardies were floating at the deep end of the pool.

See, that was why, up until then, he was always worn underpants with his swimwear. This was Payton’s fault. Her and her natural ‘vixen’ ways. Damnnit!

『 maкιng єℓєcтяιcιтy 』

ghetto trash

she's such a teaser, she's such a star.
give me a reason or gimme a chance.

『 тнιs ιs wнaт тнє wσяℓ∂ ιs ƒoя 』

always up for a laugh.
she's a pain in the arse.
but every time that we meet....

i xo s k i p xo a xo h e a r t b e a t.

Oliver was still humiliated.

It could have been seen as a little… Over the top. But it wasn’t exactly fair that things like that happened to such a nice, friendly, sweet and on top of all that – quiet as hell kind of a guy. He was sure no one (especially Payton) would ever let him live ‘the pool incident’ down.

As soon as Mindy had thrown him his shorts, he’d tugged them on, still red faced and swam in a way that he hoped gave off the essence of calm, to the end to the pool, slowly got out, went over to the side and picked up his towel before heading inside. He didn’t say anything to anyone he’d passed, nor did he take notice of any goings on as he yanked the fridge door open and grabbed two bottles of (awful) light beer before retreating to him room. He didn’t come down until morning (save for toilet visits and scavenge some food) and had instead, (after finishing both bottles rather quickly) unpacked his beloved bass, changed out of his wet clothes and sat in the middle of the room, script and staff books scattered around him as he tried to write. He ended up slapping. His favourite technique and something he’d learnt from his brother (not Jason). He wanted to call home, but not only would that look pathetic, but he was out of credit. He wouldn’t be able to speak to anyone until they got to go home – unless he got his hands on someone else’s’ phone.

When he had come out of his room to get food though, he’d found himself faced with Payton, who had found it entertaining to no end to keep brining up what had happened. He’d called her a self centred and cruel b***h of a girl – but only in his mind, grabbed a loaf of sliced bread, a knife and some cheese (not that he’d eat it all) and turned on his heal, making his way back up the stairs.

The same thing had happened the next morning. This time though, he’d gone back to his room to grab his bass, went through the kitchen on the way to basement to get a bottle of water and headed for the studio. Oliver was sure that he would be the only one out of either band even bothering to practise or write. But whatever, it wasn’t his concern what they did. Just as it wasn’t Payton’s to see how far she could push him, as much as she seemed to like thinking it was.

So, there he had been, for the past thirty-six hours or so, with his bass, occasionally going upstairs to get food, and of course, to sleep and shower, in the basement studio. For a while, he’d actually given up on writing, and had instead recorded him saying stupid things, before playing around with the voice levels and systems on the computer in there. Sort of fun and it preoccupied his mind. Eventually, however, he had a pretty decent bass line. It had jazz elements, as his always did, because of his original jazz and classical (upright bass) training. He’d also realised just how much of his life had had put into music. It took that long.

He’d started playing piano at four, properly too. Then had moved onto upright bass at eight (a funny sight, mind you) and from there, at fourteen, his love for bass guitar had developed. He’d sat back in the swivel chair, his legs up and resting on top of an amp and he dwelled on this. His parents had invested a lot too. Wow.

He’s written a letter to his mother once, thank her for all the things she’d done for him. Now though, he felt like just calling her up (like had had once at camp) and demand she pick him up and take him home – where he belonged. But s**t, if he’d put as much effort into this band as he had his entire (musical) life, then there was no way he’d be giving up now. Corny, but he’d come to realise that yes, the stupid feud between the bands had effected them all, both musically and personally.

‘d kicked his feet off the amp (leaving his things down in the studio) and had climbed the stairs. But when he got to the top, all feelings of realisation and, well, happiness, had vanished. Payton had been passing by the stair case, and was smirking at him. ******** realisation, he hated her now.

Well, that was what Oliver told himself, but we all now that it wasn’t the case. And even if it was, it wouldn’t be for long.

Now though, Oliver was in his room.

The floor was still littered in papers and books and pens and pencils, but he ignored them – or kicked them out of the way when necessary. He grabbed a pair of black, tight fitting jeans and tugged them on. Rummaging though the things had had unpacked; he produced a black scoop neck tee shirt with a white print on it. The lettering on the front was faded, but the words ‘The Cure’ could be seen on the back in blue. A picture of Robert Smith settled on his stomach and torso. He slipped on his favourite shoes, the ones he’d been wearing pretty much the whole time, his silver high-tops and ran a hand through his hair. Adding a grey vest to his outfit, before removing it, he gave a yawn and went about picking some of the things up off the floor – in search of his favourite hoddie. There it was.

He slipped the comfortable back cotton hooded zip up jacket on, left it hanging open and left his room, closing his door quietly behind him. He figured he should ‘attend’ the so called party. He grabbed a drink, just some water, from one of the tables and sat down on the grass, near the pool. He’d not spoken to anyone – and that included his band mates, since he’d left the pool. He was a proud boy, if nothing else, Oliver.

Too bad pride comes before a fall.


|[ ooc ]| sorry for horrid.
didn't really know what to do.

『 maкιng єℓєcтяιcιтy 』

[ghetto trash]

from: model material; 2008

ghetto trash

v є я σ i и c αxxя σ s єxx м α ι g υ є

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxthe sweethearted sister.




→ ● ←

Veronica figured that at least one or two of the other’s she and her brother would be sharing the apartment with would be nothing short of rich, spoilt, well travelled and living a life a pretty good life; a wealthy life. Not to say that she wasn’t comfortable, but unlike her, they would probably have money to burn and spend on pointless things. She didn't like to judge, but no one person could ever be perfect. She lived in Melbourne’s Western Suburbs and came form one of the scummiest a person could. In fact, a few years before hand, there had been a survey, followed by a report that proved that Maribyrnong was the second unhealthiest district in Victoria, following Melton at the heels. You could get all sorts of drugs (and diseases) in the area, but for some reason, Veronica didn’t particularly warm to leaving it.

People had always commented on how well her parents had done, buying on the ‘other side of the bridge’ and how it was so culturally in tune and such, but in actual fact, everyone knew that teachers’ salaries could only afford where they lived. Not that it mattered, seeing as being a doctor or a lawyer obviously meant that you would have to put up with the perfectly prim and primed people who made such remarks on a daily basis. Veronica picked up her suit case and slid it into the boot of the taxi that would be taking her (and her (half) brother, Tegan) into the heart of the city (which was actually only about twelve minutes away by train) and to the apartment that the two would be sharing with four others for at least two months, probably more. While she was excited at landing a job modelling with Kings, she was nervous about leaving behind what she knew, which was stupid, because, just like it took twelve minutes to get in to the city, it took twelve for her to get home.

As she sat in the taxi, watching the back of the seat which occupied her brother who was sitting next to the over weight and wheezing taxi driver. The car ride was silent, and only uncomfortable because of the driver, but Veronica had always found taxis to be rather…. Awkward. Once the car stopped though, she jumped out, leaving Tegan to pay the driver and such, she wanted to get a better look at the building.

Eighteen years in the same city and she thought she knew all the secret nooks and crannies, especially in the CBD district. She was wrong, and slightly gutted at the fact that she’d never noticed the building, because it was gorgeous in a quietly understated sort of way. She rushed back to the car and got her things out of the boot, not waiting for the taxi driver to get them for her, and hurried closer to the building, before calling back to Tegan as she made her way inside. There was a small elevator lift which she climbed in, not waiting for her brother, which was a little rude, she would later admit, and pressed the number eight, which would take her to the floor the models would be occupying. She’d memorized all the information about the place a long time ago, and now felt like she knew the place well already. As the bell dinged, singling that the elevator had stopped and the doors opened, she stepped out into the foyer and quickly found the door. It was only then that she remembered that Tegan had both their keys. She frowned, but tried the door anyway. It swung open with ease and Ronnie entered her new home.

She smiled softly to herself before walking a little further into the apartment and stopping still in her tracks. "Hello…?" She called as she started moving again, finding what she guessed was the 'girl’s room' by the décor (and the sticky note on the door). She put her things down on the bed nearest to the window and looked out. It was a pretty good view of the city, as well as a few leafy trees which in her street on the other side of the train tracks would be forgiven and out of place.

She decided that she’d better find Tegan, or at least wait for him and help him with his things. She chose the second option and left the room, starting her nosy exploration of the place. She found who she guessed had left the door open laying across what had been labelled as the 'boys' room. She knocked on the door and poked her head around. "Hi," She said brightly, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet. "I’m Ronnie," She told the person, whom she could only see the back of. While she waited for an answer, she peeled the yellow sticky note with black marker writing on it, and fiddled with it between her fingers. She really hoped that she didn’t wake him, that wouldn’t be a good first impression. But still, Veronica was a bright, bubbly and likeable girl, she’d never met someone who hated her for such little, petty things – at least not to her face; but maybe that was because they didn’t have to live with her….


ooc: sokay, mine's pretty all over the place
and shitty too.
=(


----------

[ghetto trash]

from GOSSIP! 2008

ghetto trash

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxooooxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxknight in shining armani.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxotheblackknight.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxooooxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxunpredictable
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxooooxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxdo what you're compelled to
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxooooxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxno one telling you to imitate;
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxooooxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxkeep it unpredictable

→ ● ←

Joseph awoke to the shrill sound of his mother’s voice, yelling at him to get up and that breakfast was being served, this was all through the intercom like system on his bedside table. He had no idea if and when he’d ever agreed to the thing being put in his room, and figured that his parents had had it installed when he was out one day. He reached over to it and pressed down on the button, mumbling something incoherent and nonsensical, before letting his hand drop and his arm hang off the side of his queen sized bed. He looked down at himself, groaning as he noticed he was still wearing the same clothes as he had the day beforehand, he yawned loudly and rubbed his tired brown eyes wake, before rolling to one side and off the bed, slowly, but surely. A shiver ran up his legs where his bare feet came into contact with the cold floor boards, but Joseph soon adjusted and decided that it was time for a shower. As he ambled slowly towards his ensuite bathroom, Joseph noticed something written on the back of his hand, in smudged ink. He gave a slight chuckle. He’d said he’d call. But he always said that.


As Seph entered the bathroom, he dropped the jeans he’d worn for about twenty-four hours or so, and then tugged his t-shirt over his head. He flicked the switch beside the bathroom door, which started the fan’s quiet whipping buzz in the ceiling. He opened the glass door to the shower – his shower – and removed his boxer briefs, throwing them on top of his other clothes. He started the water and stepped into the squeaky clean, white tiled shower and stood under the steaming hot water, staying still for a few moments to wake his body and mind up. Once that was done, he went about washing his hair and then the rest of his body. Once the initial ‘waking’ routine was done, it never took Joseph longer than ten minutes to shower, but sometimes he would just stand under the water for much longer, just let the water bounce off his skin. He liked steaming hot showers, and when he emerged, fifteen minutes later and wrapped a perfectly soft, fluffy and warm towel around his waist, his generally olive (yet sun tanned) skin was closer to lobster red. He grinned at the mirror, still able to make out his reflection. He grabbed a glass that sat next to the basin and filled it with cold water, rinsing out his mouth. He would brush his teeth after breakfast. He’s never quite grasped how people did it the other way around, he tried that before, and the food had tasted awful. More awful than say, if his mother had cooked it.

With his towel secured tightly around his waist, Joseph exited the ensuite and wondered over to his (small) walk in closest and stared at the endless array of clothing. He was quite a particular guy, and liked to look good, without looking like he put too much thought into it. He hated it when people spent hours making their hair look like they just got out of bed, he didn’t understand it, but he did like to look effortlessly… Cool for want of a better word. He settled on a pair of straight legged (but not drain pipe skinny) rust black jeans, a white button up shirt, accompanied by a black long sleeved sweater vest, a blue leather tie – seventies style, a pair of blue converse high-tops and a slightly fitted black suit jacket with a silver lining. He threw the clothes on his unmade bed and grabbed a clean pair of boxer briefs from a draw. He was dry now and quickly tugged his underwear on, quickly following them with the rest of his attire. He watched himself in the mirror as he fixed the tie. It was hard to do normally for him, and it being made of leather made it all the more difficult.

He finally finished dressing himself and went about his room, collecting various items, and either slipped them into his pockets, or onto his person. These things included (among other things): his Calvin Klein wallet, a black watch, a silver thumb ring a delicate silver chain that he tucket under his shirt and his keys .

He was now ready to grace the day with his presence. A quick run through his damp hair and a flick of the light switch (off) and Joseph left his bedroom. He ran down the stairs to the front room where his father was getting ready to take Benjamin (his 11 month old baby brother) to drop around at the nannies house. Yes, house. His mother wanted the house free of people to start redecorating – for the second time that year, and she needed all the help out of the house. Seph picked Ben up from out of his stroller and smiled at his brother. "Hey man," he said, cradling the infant close to his chest and giving him his finger to wrap his tiny hands around. He kept his eyes fixed to his brother as he spoke to his dad. “I’ll drop him on my way to school, I haven’t seen him all weekend,” he didn’t offer his father this proposition, he simply told him what he was going to do. The man grunted in agreement, and as he left the room, muttered something about it only being Joseph’s own fault he hadn’t seen his brother. "We’re not going to Connie’s, are we Benny-Boy? Nerp, and we’re not going to school either; well, maybe not. We’ll have an adventure. It’s high time you met my friends." Seph would need to be carefully though, not only would he be showing a slightly sensitive side that his friends had been predicting would soon appear, but his brother was only 11 months old. Maybe he’d just introduce them to him, and then drop him at Connie’s (the nanny) house. It sounded like a plan.

He tucked the child into his old fashion pram, shoved his day pack (with nappies, a bottle with formula, pins, dummies, pretty much all the essentials) into the under tray and then patted his pockets, double checking he had his wallet, he’d buy something for breakfast on the way to school. He checked his watch. His friends would be nearing the end of his street soon, that or they would have just passed it. He shouted out that he was leaving now, and that he had Ben, then, Mr. Hepburn Smith left the building.

He rounded the corner of Hepburn South Road and could see three backs. He knew who they were, and as he slowly approached them with his brother softly gurgling, he could hear their conversation. "Speaking of chillens," He said with a broad grin, waiting for their reaction when they saw that he had bought said topic of conversation – well, Ben was close enough. "Shame really though, she was kind of hot, now she’ll have saggy breasts," of course, Joseph was joking – at least, one would hope. "Wonder if Daddy’s sticking around?" He said as he squeezed himself and the pram into the line, next to his best friend, Juniper. He’d made eye contact with Lacey before he’d aligned himself in the group, but honestly, when June was around, all Seph felt was guilt. He quickly grabbed his banana from the little pocket at the railing and started peeling it, distracting himself. Breaking the top off, he popped it into his mouth and chewed silently. "So, how are we all this morning? Planning on attending the first day of school, because I don’t think I’m up to it. Although, turning up with Ben could be fun." In all seriousness, Seph would not take his brother to school, and having him tag along with them if they didn’t go was not a good idea, but Connie’s house was on the way. "Might need to make a quick stop on the way to schoolio," he said, pointing to the pram, and its precious cargo.






( ooc ) sorry guys, they do get better, promise.


are you up for a challenge?xoxoxo

[ghetto trash]

from i'm your new housemother; 2008

ghetto trash

d i є g σ xxc α ι d є я xx м α ι g υ є

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxthe peace activist..



→ ● ←

Dark ringed, sunken brown eyes blinked slowly. Diego removed his reading glasses (which he’d left on, for some reason or another) and folded them up, bringing out the case from the backpack that was swinging loosely from his left shoulder. Folding the glasses up and placing them in, he snapped the case shut once more, and carelessly shoved it back into the bag, zipping it up only half way. He yawned quietly and continued his walk 'home'. He’d never been…. Permeant, Diego. He’d lived his life in two countries, swapping between his father (in Chile, hence his name) and his mother (in Australia, hence the muddled 'accent'). With an ocean between two parents who both wanted to see their son, Diego was shifted between the two, six months in Viña Del Mar, with his father, and six in Melbourne with his mother. He had a dual citizenship, and living in the pooper parts of Chile and the richer parts of Melbourne shaped him as a person: A guy who had a funny accent, and his sights set on world change. Apparently, his own world was going to be changing. A small thing called a baby. Honestly, Diego didn’t have time for a child, and he didn’t particularly like the girl either, he’d been drunk, besides, he’s never even spoken to her… not really anyway, and now, he was torn and didn’t know what to do.

The left sleeve of his shirt had been rolled up over his elbow, and the cotton wool bud taped to the inside of his arm explained his tiredness and drowsiness. He’d just been to donate blood, like the Good Samaritan he was. He tugged removed the bud, throwing it into a near by rubbish bin, and tugged the sleeve down. He was used to it, and getting needles didn’t hurt too much. It was the feeling of being tired afterwards that bothered Diego. He should probably have been resting, but he didn’t feel like sitting around, being useless, and had stopped for lunch on the way back.

Diego had all of one class on Thursday’s, and it was in the morning. Literature. Something he loved, and was good at. But the set up left him free for the rest of the day, which he usually spent doing something selfless and to help others, or sleeping, he never got enough sleep during the night. Another yawn proved that he was tired and as Diego turned the handle of the front door and entered the frat-house, he became a little dizzy. Rushing wasn’t a good idea, but it was exactly how Diego came to be in front of a sink, drinking straight from the tap, before he stood up straight and wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. He walked a few paced, dropped his bag on the floor beside him and sank into a chair gratefully. He’d heard movement inside the house, and only when his head clear, did he realise that he's walked passed at least two of the guys. s**t. He gave a weak smile and an attempt at speaking, but his body was tired, and his voice didn’t seem to be working, so he trailed off into a pathetic and hardly audible: "Hey....?" and let the hand he’d lifted slightly to fall with a slap onto his lap, the sound louder than his voice had been. He didn't even know if they were still in the same room as him as his eyes slipped closed and then quickly opened. He reached for his bag and pulled out an apple, biting into it. Food sugar, exactly what his body needed to recharge itself with.

|[ ooc ]| So.... Diego just isn't any race then...?
Seeing as he's not 'black', 'white', asian or indian...?
He's just a dirty wog...?
What a tosspot :S

Hope this post isn't too.... s**t.
Had no idea what to write.
xD















----------

[ghetto trash]

all from: pretty famous things; 2008

ghetto trash

{ come with me. come with me }
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxwe'll travel toxi n f i n i t y.

Charlotte Rose Shaddix was sitting cross legged on the overly tacky, overly fluffy, overly white and overly bachelor pad esque faux fur rug in the lounge room of her brother’s apartment, which was located amongst lights and rush, Las Vegas. Actually, the whole place was over done, but she supposed it was fair enough that now he had the money to, her brother indulged a little a lot. They’d not had much money as kids. They weren’t hard done by or anything, but they couldn’t afford things like trips overseas. How her brother got to the US at the age of nineteen was beyond Charlotte, but she was only there because of his money, and she was grateful for it, so she didn’t complain too much about the living space, if only to make humorous jabs at his taste in décor.

With her acoustic guitar (actually, it was newly bought for her by Asher when she first arrived in Vegas) and she was doubled over it, her hand running along a lined pad with a grey led, her messy handwriting scrawling random letters and dots, as well as full words, which would later become lyrics. She flipped the pencil and violently erased the half the page, before resorting to tearing the piece of paper out and scrunching it up. She set the pencil and the ball of paper down and sat up straight. She’d just play for a little. With her iPod head phones stuck in her ears, Charlie started to play softly, eventually pulling her headphones out and continuing without the assistance of the computerized beats she’d created earlier that day. She knew that she’d started to get louder, but honestly, she couldn’t care, she was finally starting to get somewhere, for the first time in almost two weeks. She snag softly underneath the chords she played, her lips barely moving as she tried to figure out what words would fit, and how exactly they would.

But she was interrupted, as fate would have it, but a clumsy clanking sound. Her head whipped up as a tarty blonde in high heels, shoved on the wrong feet stumbled out of hallway, giggling to herself and pulling her neckline up, to stop herself from toppling out of the low cut dress she wore. Charlotte gave an annoyed sigh, and pointed in the direction of the door, "The door’s that way, I doubt you’ll miss it," She said, watching the girl, before adding: "Or maybe you will," under her breath, knowing full well that she copped a greasy glare from the girl. Honestly, being greased off by the tacky bottle blonde couldn’t bother Charlie less. Being interrupted by her almost breaking her ankle in the hallway though, that was different.

She had to bite down on her cheeks to stop herself from screaming out to Jake for the first of what would surely be many times that day. He was disgusting. A pig of a guy, and although Charlotte was generally a bright, bubbly, friendly and happy nineteen-year-old who didn’t like to use the word hate, she despised him. It was hard not to, the way he treated people and the fact that he got away with so much. The worst part of it all though, was that he had the record label, and the album, and the name, and she didn’t. She let her breath out in a yell and then set her guitar back down on her lap, trying to prevent herself from doing something like adding chilli flakes to his cereal, which she knew he would be coming out to eat in a matter of minutes.

As the front door slammed shut, signalling the exit of last night’s slut, Charlotte awaited the annoying remarks and snarky comment that were sure to fill he room once Mr. Felgate made his presence known.






ooc: hope this is okay dearie.
it's pretty s**t, but i was lost as for where to start.
:[

xo

ghetto trash

{ come with me. come with me }
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxwe'll travel toxi n f i n i t y.

Charlotte made no reply for the first thing that came out of Jake’s mouth, it was of no importance. "She’s trashy," She informed him, following his eye line, before going back to what she was going, which was hiding her lyrics by flipping over the pad. Her music, she didn’t care if he heard it, but her lyrics, they were s**t, as far as she was concerned, no matter how many times those who had been able to get their hands of them had told her other wise. She felt a hand through her hair. She didn’t like that.

"Hey, douchebag, I just washed my hair!" She said, running her both her hands through it, restoring it to it’s previous state, neat and sitting pretty. With her second insult of the day out, and Jake now in the kitchen, Charlotte turned back to her guitar. But the sound of the cereal box opening, the bag being unfolded and the little coloured bits of cereal being poured into a bowl got on her nerves. "Fruitloops are disgusting and do have to make so much noise?!" She asked, clearly already irritated. ******** hell, she’d never known one person who could get on her nerves so easily, but he did. Maybe he had magic powers. Magically sexy powers.

"And why the hell do you waste all that? Asher bought it just because you said you liked it, and you don’t even live here, you could have a little more respect for the things people do for you when they clearly don’t have to. He’s gone out." With her little spiel out of the way, Charlotte thought that Jake would leave, maybe he’d be nice for a change. But she was wrong. Instead, he decided to plop himself down in front of the television, turning it on. Charlie quickly swiped up the remote and turned the T.V off, before stuffing the thing down her top, a place no one dared to go, not if they valued their genitals. "Can’t you see I’m working here or you as blind as you are arrogant?" She said, her head whipping around, just so she could glare at him.

Sure, she’d just turned his band off, but she didn’t care, he’d invaded her space. Something dangerous to all of man kind.








ooc: gah; sorry about this.
i just wanted to post, like, really badly.
xD

xo

ghetto trash

{ come with me. come with me }
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxwe'll travel toxi n f i n i t y.

Yeah, Jake was hot, Charlie knew it, but his attitude pretty much countered his appearance. Honestly, the guy was a d**k-wad – most of the time. He treated people like s**t, and Charlie hated people who were disrespectful. Of course, she was a hypocrite, because she’d just grabbed the remote from him and turned the television off; but he’d been an arse to her since he’d ambled from ‘his’ room (which was actually just a guest room, with his crap in it) and had interrupted her while she was working.

"You wouldn’t dare, Felgate. Not if you value your genitals,” She told him, glaring, challenging. No one ever did. For a small girl, Charlie could pack a punch, and having three older brothers (Asher being the youngest of the three boys) she’d had plenty of practise with kicking, kneeing and the like, right between the legs. "So why don’t you just scurry off and leave me alone for once?"









ooc: i agree.
it will.
:D

xo

ghetto trash

{ come with me. come with me }
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxwe'll travel toxi n f i n i t y.

Charlie didn’t bother with a reply, she couldn’t think of one; but she did pull the remote from down her top once he walked into the kitchen and chucked it back on the couch, she was clearly not going to get any work done now that Jake was up and about, tormenting her. Tormenting her topless. Dang, why did he have to do that? The girl wasn’t made of steel, and he had a hot body. Then again, all she had to think about the things that came out of his mouth, and she was turned right off. She hadn’t noticed that he’d grabbed the paper she’d thrown away before hand, so when his voice came from the kitchen, quieter and more sincere, she thought something was defiantly up.

Once she saw what was in his hand, she quickly put her guitar down, leapt up and ran into the kitchen, and reached up a little (she couldn’t help that she was so short) and snatched the paper from his hand and tore it up (she’d memorized it anyway, and didn’t particularly like what she’d written). "Don’t you have any respect for privacy, those are personal lyrics and no one’s meant to see them, not until they’re done anyway," She said, her voice going from raised very high and angrily, to low and an almost whisper. No one had ever really heard or read her lyrics other than Asher and a few select people, Jake was the furthest from any person she’d ever let read them.

"Yes, in fact, before you and your tart for the evening interrupted me, that was exactly what I was doing," She said, a little offended. Real music? What did he think she wrote? Pop s**t for Hannah Montana and the Jonas Brothers? She wasn’t mindless, and her lyrics were smart, meaningful and original.









ooc: lemme know.
hope it's okay.

xo

[ghetto trash]

from: one too many mornings; 2008

ghetto trash

elliot rose shaddixxox
the disappointed deep thinkerxoxo

there's a place for us ;xoxo
sitting here waiting for the sunxoxo
and it calls me back intoxoxo
the safe ... .xoxo

Elliot couldn’t believe it.

There had to be more meaning to the songs by Case of the Mondays. They lyrics themselves made that much obvious. She’d never been one of those people who liked to decode what people said, but those lyrics had ‘called’ her to, as stupid as it sounded. She had been sure, from the word go, from the very first song she heard by the band that there was more to those lyrics than what they meant if they were taken literally. Maybe it was something to do with the music, the way that (at risk of sounding pretentious) it married with the lyrics and made everything more believable. She had been let down; but at the same time, she was determined to hang on to what she’d believed for quite some time now, and find something other than what the band said the lyrics meant (which she’d gathered by now was nothing). Kind of like some underlying meaning – even if they hadn’t told one another it was there. It had to be. Didn’t it?

Well, no, it didn’t actually, but Elliot didn’t want to believe that. She would not have that, not after all the time she’d spent listening to, reading and thinking about the lyrics in each and every song she’d heard. Sadly, she’d obsessed for months about them. Not the band, or a certain member, or the way any single one of them looked, unlike a lot of people did, but over the lyrics. She’d probably driven herself insane, it wouldn’t have surprised a fair few people, but all that time and energy and thought and… everything couldn’t have been in vain, no way. Her mother had said she was filling her head with crap when she first caught on to the band, but Elliot had since left home, and instead annoyed four others in the share house she lived in with her constant babbling about Case of The Mondays and their lyrics and the music, and how all the songs meant something. If they didn’t, then she’d been made a fool of, and humiliation (or something along those lines) was not something she partially liked the thought of.


★


Well, aside from let downs and disappointments, there were a few good things that came out of being one of the winners of the competition. Because, meaningful lyrics or not (and they so were), Case of the Mondays were still one of Elliot’s favourite bands, and she’d met them, and was spending a whole week with them! In the Bahamas! It was pretty much the best thing any fan could (and would) ask for. Although, she had been a little more than… Not surprised as much as out off by the fact that the band member who she was supposed to be ‘hanging with’ (Jared, the bass player) had seemed to avoid her. The fact that she had no idea where anything was and that everyone else was preoccupied with certain other things and people had meant that Elliot had been stranded. She’d sat for quite sometime in the living room and stared at the blank TV for a while, before falling asleep for an hour or so and then searching for food or something to do. She was pretty sure it was just nerves on Jared behalf, which was bloody weird in her eyes, seeing as he made a living out of performing in front of people, but he’d eventually come out to talk to her.

They’d actually been getting along quite well (which was more than could be said for some of the other pairings) until Elliot had bought up the whole ‘meaning behind the lyrics’ thing. She’d learnt that apparently there was none, and knew that she’d started to get on the bassists nerves when she’d somehow pluck the topic out of thin air over and over again; but she couldn’t leave it alone.

Eventually she’d stopped crapping on about it and they each went off to do their own thing, although Elliot still hadn’t really done anything other than sleep. The atmosphere in the house was pretty awkward, from Lottie’s point of view, and not a lot had been done about it the day before.

But it was a different day, and apparently there was a barbeque. Elliot guessed it was a good idea, but she guessed that people would probably group off. Say, the band would stay together, and the fans would stand around with one another not talking. The whole thing was stupid, couldn’t people just get along? Elliot looked down at her feet and wriggled her toes, watching the bands of the silver flip-flops move as she did so. Apparently they couldn’t, because there she was, standing next to a table, her back leaning against a wall by her lonesome with a clear plastic cup in her hand, filled with a mixture of lemonade and beer. She finished off the rest of her drink in one gulp and found a bin, chucking her empty cup in and dusted off the back of her black shorts. Now, to do some adventuring, even if it was only to talk to the other competition winners. She’d seen Jared across the yard, and had smiled at him a few times, but she wasn’t going to go over to him, not just yet.

She had already picked out who she would approach first. The only male winner of the competition, Demitri, a boy she pegged to be rather flamboyant. She grinned as she walked across the yard and around a few trees, before standing next to him and his semi hidden deck chair. "So.." She said lightly, with a smile to match as she sat down in the deck chair next to him, but stayed facing, "Got a good view from here?" She was almost laughing. Not in a mean sense, but just because ti was kind fo funny, seeing as he’d come off as being rather loud and fun loving when she’d heard him before. Not that you wouldn’t be able to hear him a mile off. Which was exactly the point.

"Didn’t peg you as anti-social," She continued, now sitting back in the chair. If he got up and walked away now, it would be the second time in as many days that Lottie would feel pretty ******** stupid.








|[ ooc ]| gonk
what the ********?
sorry guys, gotta dash, this post is ******** s**t.
(who the hell uses 'gotta dash'?)






xoxo. . . . waiting for the sun.

[ghetto trash]

from: talk of the town, 2008




ghetto trash





xxxxxxxxx{ come with me. come with me

}
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxwe'll travel toxi n f i n i t y.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
●xxthe way you move is a mysteryxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

All day, Cadence hadn't been herself. Since she'd left the clinic she'd been quiet and unable to concentrate on anything other than music. She had a deadline that was less than a month away. A huge opportunity for her. For The Big Day, a festival that travelled all of the main cities in Australia (where she’d grown up). But it seemed to lead to bigger things - like Glastonbury. And she'd been asked to create mock ups of everything. Flyers, tickets, logos, t-shirts, the whole ******** she-bang. She needed all the time she had been given, and then some, but still she hadn't been able to create even a concept. It was kind of explainable by the fact that at exactly 9.35 that morning, her doctor had confirmed what two home pregnancy kits had told her the day before. She was most defiantly, undeniably, no doubt about it; two and a half months pregnant.

It was kind of hard to concentrate on anything other than the unborn child who had only decided to make itself known about 16 hours before Cadence found herself sitting in Starbucks. She hated the place, the coffee was always way too milky and the service was unfriendly, but the smell of coffee beans was always nice – and so was the décor. She had a faint blue lined notepad on the bench in front of her as well as a pencil and a black ink pen. Her hand was scribbling as though it had a mind of it own, because she sure as hell didn’t even know she was drawing. When she looked down at the paper, all she saw was a cluster of stars and a few angry looking circles drawn over and over again. She rubbed her tired, cool blue eyes and put the pen down, staring out the window and off into space. Her mind often wondered to odd things, but this time it was a little more relevant to the day’s events.

Jared.

This was not good. The hot as hell guy who lived next door was most defiantly the father of the baby, seeing as Cadence hadn’t slept with anyone else in a very long time. It would have been… Not necessarily good, but a whole lot better, if he wasn’t living with his girlfriend and his two kids. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Cadence was the girl on the side, and although she hated to admit it, Jared’s kids were cute as hell. Living next door, it was explainable that she’d seen them all together on more than one occasion, and although she was pretty much used to being used and treated like s**t, before she knew exactly what Jared’s life was like, she thought maybe he was decent. Even when he said he had kids, it didn’t faze her – it was the girlfriend part that caught her off guard. Again. It always happened, nothing new, it was a pattern and even though Caydee had told herself that moving whole countries would mean a clean slate and a new way of living, everyone knew that it was hard to break of old habits, and easy as ******** to fall into a familiar pattern.

At first it had been exciting. Not only with Jared, in general. The first guy she’d been with who was already spoken for was a tall, tanned blonde surfer with brown eyes she’d met at the Splendour in The Grass one year. His girlfriend was into bubblegum pop and had refused to go with him to the festival, which was a pretty ******** amazing offering of real music. His name was Asher and in spoke with a laid back almost drawl-like manner. She just liked the fact that he was into the same music she was. The whole day she’d seen him at every stage she was at and by the end of it, they were to the side of the stage, making out for all to see while listening to the likes of Bob Evans and Josh Pyke. They stayed in his tent that night and she learnt of Nancy, aka; Barbie/the girlfriend. Honestly, it didn’t really bother Caydee one bit, two more days and they’d never see one another again. But it seemed like meeting at the stage holding Jose Gonzales sealed the deal and seeing as they were both staying in Byron Bay for a while, why the hell not would they hook up again?

Well they did, on many an occasion, for about two and half months, until Nancy came home early from work and found them in a very compromising position. Asher was only the tip off the ice-berg. It seemed like Cadence took to liking guys who were already taken. And they took to liking her. Very much.

After Asher, there was Quinn (in Byron still), Oliver (on the Goldcoast), Jake (in Sydney) and Quinn (again, this time in Melbourne) in the ‘long term’ department, meaning more than three months with no one finding out, and many others in between. It was a bit strange, especially with Quinn, who kept on going back to her, but she went a long with it. She never really bothered with a proper boyfriend; she was her own person and didn’t feel the need to have anyone. In the words of Kim Catrall / Samantha Jones: "women are for friends; men are for ********]. Not anymore, it seemed.

When she’d moved to work in overseas, she’d started in the UK for the British branch of the label, before being transferred to the States, to work with a ‘sister company’ and take on their artists. It was pretty big, and would mean change anyway, so why not try to change herself almost completely. Yeah, well, it hadn’t quite worked that way, had it? Now she was sitting in Starkbucks, waiting for a man who already had a family and checking her watch to see how late he was. She sighed impatiently, yeah, she’d changed, she’d never waited for a man before she met Jared.

Anther sigh escaped her and she looked down at her lap, her eyes fixing on her stomach. Yeah, because now that she knew, there would all of a sudden be a bump there. Not likely. She patted her stomach through her clothes and then looked back up, both her hands resting on the bench.

The only thing Cadyee had been able to do was plug her iPod in and just sit there in the franchised coffee store. She watched people walk past outside for quite some time and when she saw Jared’s car, she moved to a table. When he finally walked in, she couldn’t help but smile. Weird, huh? She’d been a little angry at him for bringing up memories when he wasn’t even there, of people he didn’t even know, but when she actually saw him, a gear changed and something clicked. She gave him a soft wave and packed her note pad and things up and into her bag. She removed her headphones and turned her iPod off. She shook her head lightly and brushed her soft cheek against his slight stubble as he pecked her skin lightly. "Nope, not long at all." It was a lie, but it didn’t really matter, she hadn’t had anything better to do for that past 25 minutes anyway. She laughed a little at his stupid grin and sat down again, plonking onto the seat cutely and cocking her head to the side until the look on his face faded and turned to a look of concentration. She was going to ask if he was okay, but he jumped the gun first.

Did she want coffee?

She sat there in her seat and thought it over. Time to let the bomb drop.


"I don’t know… Is it bad to consume caffeine if you’re pregnant?" She asked quietly, her head bowed; again, she was looking at her lap. She started picking at the lint and balling cotton on her grey woollen tights, and then the tank top that went to was able to be worn as a dress and was a teal kind of colour, before straightening her embroidered sweater. Finally, she looked up at Jared through her eyes lashed, to see his reaction. She stopped fiddling with her clothes and sat still, looking at him.

Waiting; again.



ooc outfitttt.
sorry it took forever & for the dismal length

[ghetto trash]

both from: the art of falling; 2008

ghetto trash

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxooooxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxyour smile
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxooooxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxtouches everything you can't take that
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxooooxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxaway from me your smile;
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxooooxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxtouches everything

Charlotte could see where he was coming from. It was so different to the Tyco who was displayed at school. It was like he’d had a frontal lobe lobotomy, but instead had been swapped with someone else. It was probably a good thing. And it proved the theory that personality was learnt over time. If Tyco had no memory of how he had been treated before the accident, then he would have no reason so be so loud and out there in order to gain attention. A second chance….

That sounded nice. Charlotte pulled her legs closer to herself and waited for him to finish, her eyes wide as he concluded.
"But I could have killed you…" She said right after he’d finished. Had he not thought about that at all? He could have died when her car collided with his body, he was lucky to get away with as little physical damage as he had. She sighed quietly and laced her hands together around her legs.

"Get out of jail free card huh…?" She said quietly.
"I’d like one of those.." She gave a soft chuckle, her eyes were sad, because she knew she would probably die, but she shook her head and looked to his bed side table. Two glasses and a jug of water.
"Do you mind if I..?" She asked, pointing at the set. She wasn’t thirsty, but she didn’t want to dwell on anything too depressing.

"Hey, are you allowed out of your bed?" She asked all of a sudden, sitting straight up. If he was, then maybe she could show him the garden or something. Honestly, staying inside the whole day everyday was depressing. If he wasn’t, her brother’s were coming soon, and they knew him. Even if he couldn’t remember them, it would be nice… wouldn’t it?

Charlie still felt guilty, because no matter any which was Tyco put it to try and make it sound even remotely reasonable, it wasn’t. What had happened was not at all. But maybe she was grateful for it, in the sense that he’d pointed out. The doctors had pin-pointed that Charlotte had cancer, and Tyco had a fresh start over….




ooc gonk

ghetto trash

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxooooxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxyour smile
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxooooxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxtouches everything you can't take that
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxooooxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxaway from me your smile;
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxooooxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxtouches everything

Charlie smiled when Tyco pointed out his many medical companions. They were in similar boats. Save for him having injuries, rather than cancer like her. So really, they weren’t. But they’d been in the same accident and were both hospital ridden. To be honest though, Charlotte had no idea as to why she was still there. Most people she’s heard of with cancer stayed at home and only went in for the treatments. Maybe hers was worse, or maybe her father had asked to have her stay there, just in case. He was a wealthy and extremely worried man; it would make sense if that was the case.

She adjusted herself in the chair, pulling her legs up onto it and resting her chin on her knees, her right arm resting, the back of her hand facing upwards, a drip, poking into it. She gave a soft sigh and then smiled at the boy sitting on the bed. He spoke again and it confused her. What was he one about? Him hitting her…?

She tilted her head to the side and waited for him to finish, and then some, while she tried to make sense of what he’d just said. She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t find the words. He seemed so… Honestly apologetic. Why?

'You… you didn’t hit me. None of that was your fault. If I hadn’t been on the road, you wouldn’t be in here…' She said, her head still tilted, her voice soft, broken and confused. Her eyebrows were knitted together in confusion. He was serious. How could he be glad for it? He was in serious pain and there was a chance he’d never be able to play sport again; the thing his future was riding on. And for her? He didn’t even know her. What should he even care?

'I’m… glad that I found out, but even so, it’s pretty far gone and the treatment might not work. But… I… don’t think that this is the way I would have liked to find out about it… I don’t think there is a way I would have liked to… But…. You being here too, it just… I dunno, doesn’t seem fair, or something. It wasn’t your fault.' She was rambling, but she just couldn’t fathom what she’d just said. Could the ever so popular Tyco Lattig be that selfless, or was it just the lack or memory, of the drugs talking? Either way, it was kind of a surprise, then again, she’d never spoken to the boy before.

Still… It was weird.

'Wouldn’t you rather remember..?' She asked finally, quietly, not sure if he heard her, or exactly what it was that she was asking.



ooc hope you can get something out of that...
kinda pathetic, sorry.
=(

[ghetto trash]

all from: jinx--; 2008

ghetto trash

{ come with me. come with me }
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxwe'll travel toxi n f i n i t y.

Taylor didn’t believe in God. In fact, he wasn’t religious at all.

His parents were though, and Jinx assumed that was why the funeral was being held in a church, and why old testaments were being read in both English and Hebrew. She knew that it wasn’t appropriate of her to think so, but she couldn’t stop her mind from wondering why her? Why again? All her boyfriend’s died, and so, the night she heard the news about Taylor, she’d changed her hair from a mousy blonde to a bright, fire red (as a metaphorical warning) and started to call herself Jinx.

It probably wasn’t fair that she didn’t blubber while she sat at the pew, behind Taylor’s family. She obviously wasn’t important enough to them to be in the front row, even though the two had been together for the last eleven and a half months of Taylor’s short life. She tried to keep a straight face. The funeral service was horrible and didn’t represent anything of the person Charlie knew to be Taylor. There was no mention of his love for animals, his acceptance of all people, his kindness and generosity, nor any of his amazing musical and artistic talents. There was a horrible photo on top of the coffin (open casket, of course) of Taylor at what looked about seven. One of his front teeth was missing and his jet black hair was combed over to one side and slicked down. He was wearing a forced grin that didn’t translate in his striking blue eyes. Charlie opened her wallet and stroked the photo of him inside, where her driver’s license would be if she’d had one.

Two boyfriends. Dead.


→ ● ←


Charlie didn’t want to go up to the coffin, but Taylor’s mum had noticed she didn’t before hand, and at the end of the service, she pulled her up from the pew and practically dragged her to the coffin. “It’s best you say a proper good bye,” The woman said quietly. To be honest, Taylor’s mother was the only member of his family that Jinx could actually stand, and so, as she waddled away, blubbering, Charlotte turned to face the cold, pale face of the boy she’d most defiantly loved. She just watched his face, and tried to picture him as he really was – to her. Not in the Sunday best sort of suit he’d been placed in, and not with the make up on, trying to make him not look so cold or… dead, ad her Taylor. It wasn’t easy. She touched his hand and turned, walking away silently. She gave a weak smile to his mother and walked slowly through the church.

It seemed to take for ever. Passing pew after pew, row after row. Everyone had left, save for Taylor’s family, who were still crowding around the coffin, trying to get a last word in before he was taken behind the curtains and cremated. She was alone in the church with them. Them, and a face which instantly instilled spite and angry in the very pit of her stomach, until it rose through her and built to a strong thunder, and when it reached her mouth, she was to bite on her lips to stop herself from screaming. There, at the very back of the church sat Alexander Gyllenhaal. Charlie stopped dead in her tracks and her blank face scanned his, she stuffed her hands in her pockets and marched over as quietly as she could, so her angry steps didn’t resinate through the beautiful church building.

"What the hell do you think you’re doing here?!" She hissed.

"Haven’t you caused a satisfactorily significant amount of grief to leave him alone?" Her voice was rising slowly and it took a lot of self control not to scream and literally pick the guy up by the collar and shove him out the door, security style. "Get out!" She told him, her voice an angry whisper as she came closer.

She’d lost it, completely. She grabbed his shirt and pulled him from where he was seated. She scrunched her hand in a fist on his shirt and as much as she tried to look angry, she knew all she was doing was making things worse. She looked confused, hurt and upset. Sadly for Alexander, who wasn’t a weak looking guy, Charlie was a surprisingly strong girl. She shoved him out side of the church and followed, stalking over. "How dare you come here?! How dare you come to his funeral!" She screamed at him, tears were starting to build up in her eyes and people were staring, but she wiped away her salty tears and ignored everyone else around.

"Why would you even think it would be okay to come to his funeral?" She asked angrily, not expecting an answer. "Why would you come to the funeral of a person you’ve killed?!"






ooc drama overload, soz.
xD

xo

ghetto trash

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
charlotteroseshaddixxxxxxxxxxx
JINXxxxxxxxxxx

cause i've seen love die; way too many times xxxxxxxxxxxxx
when it deserved to be alive; i've seen you cry, way too many times,xxxxxxxxxxxooooxx
when you deserve to be alive.xxxxxooxxxxxxxx
















Charlie had no idea what she was doing.

Seriously, what was she going to do? Scream at the guy? Punch and kick him a little? She was feisty, and strong enough to, but she couldn’t. She was weak emotionally. The quick spark or anger turned to upset rather quickly and she slowly pushed Alex’s hands from around her writs, first the left, and then the right. She stood up straight from where she’d been crouching over him. "Yeah, well…" She wiped tears from her eyes and sniffles softly. "Sorry isn’t good enough, is it?" She said softly, but the anger and sadness in her voice was still there – and very clear.

Sorry really wasn’t at all good enough.



→ timeskipbby ←



Jinx was feeling good for the first time in a long time. She hadn’t been to any gigs since Taylor died and even though she was on a job, she did have to admit, this one didn’t have shitty little wannabe punk bands she had to pretend to like just so she could get a good photo or two. Her eyes wondered over to the tech desk and she waiting until the band finished their second last song to signal to the woman operating the lights. They’d worked together before, and so she knew what Charlie liked. The lights turned off as the last song of the second last act came to it’s climax, then a white light appeared near the back of the set up, illuminating the drummer and bouncing off every shape of the three other guys in front. It looked amazing with their movement and Jinx started snapping.

As the band finished and the MC came into the stage, Jinx made her way through the crowded dance floor and made her way over the bar, she pushed through the few people surrounding the area, flashed the guy on the othersider of the wooden bar top her lanyard and asked for a bottle of water and, after he’d removed the cap, she grabbed it thankfully, nodded at him and walked away drinking heavily.

She finished the bottle quickly and chucked it into the nearest bin, sighing heavily and adjusting the strap of her camera. She waited next to the stage patiently as people chattered about the next band. They were meant to be really good, interesting and ‘pure’. Amazing stuff, so she’d been told. It wasn’t often that Jinx got excited by a local act, but she genuinely was this time, and, if they were as good as everybody made them out to be, then hopefully she could get some good photos and maybe a quick interview for the event organiser.

She licked her lips lightly and switched her camera on, bringing it to her left eye, closing her right one, her finger poised, and ready. As the MC introduced the band, a loud cheer came from the crowd and Charlie’s smile was relaxed and genuine. She had herself pointed in the direction of the left side of the stage. The drummer came out – click. Then the keyboardist – click, click. The bassist followed and got a loud cheer, mainly female, and Charlie could se why – clickity click and then the guitarist-slash vocalist, who’s face remained in the shadows until he stood in front of the microphone, smiling widely. Charlie dropped her camera and it caught quickly around her neck (thank goodness for neck straps).

It was him, and this, this was not good.




ooc:: duuuuude, i had no idea what to write.
like, i dunno, is this alright?
i forgot what they were called
xD
and i didn't know if i shoudl leave it there or not, but, yeah, here ya god, hope you can work with it.
=S

ghetto trash

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
charlotteroseshaddixxxxxxxxxxx
JINXxxxxxxxxxx

cause i've seen love die; way too many times xxxxxxxxxxxxx
when it deserved to be alive; i've seen you cry, way too many times,xxxxxxxxxxxooooxx
when you deserve to be alive.xxxxxooxxxxxxxx
















Everything was surreal. It was talented. The murderer was talented. This was not fair. Taylor was talented too. The guy should be locked up, or at least far, far away from having any sort of contact with anyone who new Taylor, especially Jinx. It wasn’t right. The band only played three songs, which was odd and unusual. For only three songs, there were a lot of people there who obviously knew the band. Charlie continued looking through her lens at each member of the band; each member who wasn’t the singer. She couldn’t bring herself to photograph him. s**t damn, it’s was not fair that they had meaningful, pure lyrics, it wasn’t fair that everyone loved them, it wasn’t fair that ever though Jinx controlled herself, her body wanted to move with the music.

The set ended and Charlie wiped her brow and rubbed her tired eyes, this was hard. She’d made her way back over to the bar, her camera swinging gently from the safety or around her neck, she stopped and slipped onto a tall red stool, she still felt short, all 5’2 inches of her was propped up straight in the seat, but everyone around her was taller, but in recent events, small was good, maybe she would go undetected. She forced herself to smile at the 30-something and very purposely bald bartender before asking him for two things: a screwdriver and a bottle of water. She downed the mix of orange juice and vodka very quickly before opening the water. Then it happened. He slid into a seat only a few down from hers. Charlie almost chocked on the water in her mouth, a few little spluttering of sound escaped her and when the two girls between them slid of their seats and went to dance, they were within talking distance, even in the crowded bar. Her eyes snuck looks at him every now and again. People around who saw might have thought she wanted to talk to him for reasons that didn’t involve him killing her boyfriend, like, say, asking him for his number. She licked her lips slowly, anxiously before opening her mouth….

"Good lyrics," she informed him, although her eyes refused to meet his. She gripped her camera tightly and lifted it up, not watching what she was doing as she snapped once in his direction. "I didn’t get any good ones of you when you were on stage. Short set…" she checked the photo, decided it was good enough and turned her camera off. "Listen, I know what I did the other day was ‘wrong’" She used her fingers as quotation marks, "But I’m not sorry I did, you shouldn’t have been there….."

She pushed off the bar and walked off slowly, making sure she didn’t fall over her own feet. She felt like she’d been slammed by a bus, or the equivalent that allowed you to remember your suffering after you’ve lived through it. Now that he’d turned up, everything was a reminder. She shuddered and stopped at the steps that faced the stage. She sat down in the top step, one foot on the second and the other on the third, her bottle rested on the floor next to her.







ooc::
=S
it's horrid, i'm sorry.
just got back, v. tired, but i wanted to pot.
=D

ghetto trash

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
charlotteroseshaddixxxxxxxxxxx
JINXxxxxxxxxxx

cause i've seen love die; way too many times xxxxxxxxxxxxx
when it deserved to be alive; i've seen you cry, way too many times,xxxxxxxxxxxooooxx
when you deserve to be alive.xxxxxooxxxxxxxx
















Charlie was tired, that much was obvious.

She’d spent most of her day moving around her ‘space’ at the music store to make room for the incoming of a new drums teacher and her studio had been shifted to a tiny little area. She wasn’t happy about it, and new that it would be before too long that she threatened to quit unless they gave her something half decent. After finishing all that business, she needed to actually get on with the teaching part of her job, which was how she and Alex had met in a situation where she couldn’t rip out his jugular.

Three months down the track and after all the horrible thing Jinx had said and done things seemed dandy, but Charlie always felt guilty, save when she forgot to feel horrible about what she’d done, and that was when she was with Alex and he was talking, or she was talking, or they were being silly or watching a band, or practising. But when he was sleeping, or they were spending the night apart, she started to fret, started to dread seeing him the next day, or the day after that. That was, until she did, then everything would be okay again, until she had time to think once more. She was lying on the floor, her body resting against his and a tub of her favourite ice-cream in her small hands, spoon halfway to her mouth when she was jolted slightly and the spoon and tub were taken from her. She frowned, but was too tired and feeling too sluggish and lazy to actually say anything in protest.

Charlotte wasn’t happy about being moved, but seeing at the ice-cream container had been removed from her possession, she guessed she needed to find something else to entertain her stomach with. She sluggishly shifted herself to the kitchen of her apartment with the help of Alex and sat herself down in one on of the four chairs around the table. She just nodded lightly when Alex mentioned pasta, and, although she liked that he was cooking and that it was pasta, she was too worn out. She folded her arms on the table in front of her and leant her head to one side, resting it there on her forearms, half watching Alex, half dozing off. She’s worked two late shifts in a row the two nights before hand, and tonight was her night off before another at the bar. One of the girl’s had left to have a baby, or get married or something and Charlie’s shifts had been moved to twice a night, with a break between the hours of twelve and one, and she usually had to stay behind to clean up and close up, at around four in the morning. She got little sleep between that and working at the music store, where she’d always had a job since the age of fourteen. Aside from her job as a vocal coach there, she also helped around with the actual selling of instruments, equipments and books.

Charlotte third job was more of a hobby which she got paid to be interested in. She got money for taking photographs of bands before, during and after performances for local street and independent music magazines. Usually they were bands big on the ‘scene’ but otherwise very little known, or sometimes they would just be some local kids in a battle and she was covering the night, including the writing of how the night went and information on where the band would next be playing and if the organisers would be putting on anymore shows. That took up most other nights, and sometimes, her jobs clashed and she needed to pass on the freelance work in light of the fact that she got better pay at the bar she worked at than for doing what she loved doing.


With the food placed on the table, Charlotte sat up straight and eyed the table. She was hungry, but more importantly, Alex was very unhealthy (not that Charlie was a whole lot better at the best of times, but still). "Alex...." She started to say, her voice soft, she cleared her throat and started again. "Alex, it’s got dairy in it, you have a show, a pretty big one, in three days..." She’d told him time and time again when she was his vocal coach that dairy in the days before a show, with all the practice and then the evident performing, was not a good idea, as it coated the vocal chords. She ripped off a piece of garlic bread and put it in her mouth. She finished and smiled softly "Starting tomorrow, leading up to the show, no dairy, okay? At least, not as much.... Please?" She took up her fork and pressed it into the first piece of pasta and lifting it to her mouth, letting it linger there before popping it into her mouth and eating it. She stayed quiet for a few long moments and then smiled. "It’s good, it always is. I hate that you can cook, because I can’t. But not really, because then I would have to cook," She grinned cheekily and pointed to the coke, the garlic bread and the pasta. "You’re so unhealthy," She laughed, getting up to get fetch herself a glass of water and the rest of the salad she’d not had much of a chance to eat at lunch and sat back down, waiting for a reply to the many things she said in the short amount of time.





ooc:: FINALLY!

[ghetto trash]

from: talk of the town; 2009

ghetto trash

xxxxxxxxx{ come with me. come with me }
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxwe'll travel toxi n f i n i t y.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
●xxthe way you move is a mysteryxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Cadence had not been to sleep in the past forty-eight hours.

Nor did she feel she would get the chance to. Which oddly enough, did not bother her. Usually someone who took more than the more than enough eight hours for bodily re-charge, Caydee was feeling good. She’d just signed the first band to the international sector of Road Kill Records, where she’d been working a manner of jobs since the age of sixteen, but only because a manager as of the last two years and had put together a highly successful showcase of another band, who went by the name of Infection Sunshine, a weird mix of metal, electro and indie rock, which only worked because they had two very different singers. They needed a different name though, it was cheesy and didn’t fit, she’d talk to them on Monday about it...

Right now though, she’d be celebrating the fifth birthday of the little girl who lived next door to her. The little girl whose father was mighty fine and whose mother she had become relatively good friends with... was that weird? Maybe, seeing as Cadence had already slept with the aforementioned father, on more than one occasion, and had regularly visited the mother for coffee and other such things. The only problem? Their child wasn’t from a ‘broken home’, not at all. In fact, her parents seemed relatively happy together and with their not one, but two children. In all seriousness, from an outsider’s point of view, they were a perfect family, perfect parents, perfect couple, married or not.

Jared and Kenzi seemed to genuinely love one another, as well as their two children (which obviously went without saying), and it looked as if they each did everything they were supposed to as parents and partners. But everyone had secrets, and this family was full of them, although, Cadence only knew of one, and that was Jared’s liking towards herself, and the fact that he often came straight to her from work, and didn’t go home for a fair while afterwards (and on several other occasions). She had no clue as to the fact that Jennifer was not his child, but that of a friend of theirs and that before Cadence, there had been many other slip ups on both parents behalves. It was a little more than messed up when you got down to it, and listed everything that wasn’t prefect about that household, but the thing was, they were good at hiding. Cadence often wondered how long until Jared messed up bit time and in the process, Kenzi somehow found out. She was worried more for herself than Jared, which wasn’t exactly a caring sentiment, but no one who was caring tended to sleep with their good friends partner, even if at first, she hadn’t known they were still together. She was mainly worried because even though at first she’d only made nice with Kenzi to try and suss out how happy they were and all those nasty little things people tend to do when they were jealous, she’d soon discovered that not only was Kenzi very attractive physically, but she was a really cool chick. This created a problem for Caydee, as she wanted Jared a lot of the time, but when she acted on those feelings, she was hurting a friend (even if said friend didn’t even know it --- yet). And thus, in result of her recent antics, Cadence had given up alcohol and still had a little pink and white cardboard box, similar to the shape in which tubes of toothpaste come in, but bigger, and rather than toothpaste inside, there was a little thing which had been dubbed by a little voice much like her own that never sounded outside her yeah as the Pee-Stick.

Oh yes, there was a tiny little home pregnancy test hidden in Cadence’s beautifully crafted beside table draw which was yet to be marked, and had not told her if she was, or was not carrying a life inside of her.

With her hand hovering over the drawer, Cadence made a fist and let it fall on top of the small table with a soft, delicate thud and got up off her bed, the cuff of her jeans falling just under her bare ankles as she tugged at her singlet and ran a hand through her hair, leaving her bedroom and walking through the house to the kitchen to put some dry cat food and water in the bowls for her eight month old kitten Sotty. She bent down and scratched the grey baby animal behind the ear, sighing lightly. "What’re we gonna do, eh?" She asked him quietly. He brushed his head against her hand, signalling he wanted her to continued petting him. She picked him up gently and carried him with her to a small room near the back of the house, which served as a study as well as a sewing room. Inside the room was what she’d bought (and made) for Jennifer for her fifth birthday. Placing Sooty down on the table, he purred and wondered in amongst the papers, making himself at home and comfortable. She picked up the small pink and silver box and made sure the gift was still inside. A small chain with the little girl’s name in cursive sat in the box. It had been made from an old coin, and seeing as Cadence had no idea what to get Jennifer, it seemed plausible that it would be a good, thoughtful gift. Cadence pulled down a second, larger silver box and started lining it with baby pink tissue paper. She then sat down at her seat in front of an ancient sewing machine and slipped on the metallic silver converse low-rises she’d left there the night before and finished everything but the hem line quickly; she would do that last bit by hand. Once the dress was finished, she held it up in front of her and smiled. For someone who hadn’t sat down to a sewing machine for a good few years, it was a cute dress, and appropriate for a five year old’s birthday present. She wasn’t sure if it was too much, or too little to give a child the age of five, but either way, she placed the dress in the bottom of the silver box, on top of the soft pink paper and rested the smaller box on top of the white material.

She found Sotty winding around her feet and picked him up. Holding him with one hand, she closed the box and tucked it under her arm, carrying both the present and the kitten through the house and to the kitchen, where she placed both on a bench (though Sotty did jump down onto the floor and scamper to his food bowl). She looked down at what she was wearing and decided to add nothing but a blue cardigan before leaving her house. As she wondered from one end of the house to her front door, Caydee noticed a tall bottle with a red label on her mantle piece. She reached for it and held it in her free hand and continued her exit, pulling the door closed and listening for the deadlock, her keys in her pocket. She held the present awkwardly under one arm and the bottle of Vodka (which she had acquired not long ago at a promotional event) securely in the other and hopped over the fence (literally) and wondered over to the front door where a certain princess themed birthday party was being held. Seeing it open, Caydee knocked once, called "Hello?" and stepped over the threshold.

She found the party before the people in a sense. The party being very pink and very, very ‘princess’ like. Lovely. Cadence chuckled lightly and made her way through the decorations and into the living room, from where she could hear gushing and giggling and a very happy little girl. She poked her head around the door way and although her eyes automatically looked for Jared, as soon as she saw him, she forced herself to flicker them away from his eyes (with which her own had locked for a split second) and over to Kenzi, who was next to him. She waved lightly and then entered the room.

Once Megan (who Cadence knew to be the kid’s regular baby sitter but had never met) moved to stand next to the girl, the tall, redhead saw Jennifer. She smiled and walked over to the little girl. "Woah, don’t you look like a princess?" She asked her happily. "Oh, I forgot, you are most defiantly royalty, aren’t you?" She grinned and placed the silver box next to Jennifer. "That’s for you, your most royal highness, I hope you like it." She said, motioning to the silver box she’d placed on the floor. "And this is for your mummy and daddy," She said, holding out the unopened bottle "I don’t think I’m going to be drinking it any time soon, it’s not opened, thought you guys might enjoy it." It took all her might not to allow her eyes to linger on the non-existent gap between the couple, and how close and loved-up they looked. She instead turned back to Jennifer and continued to inform the little girl that she was very jealous of her lovely tiara and perfect hair before standing up and brushing off her jeans, looking awkwardly around the room.

She felt pretty out of place standing there and moved back out of the centre of the room. It was almost as though all the adults had formed a circle around the birthday girl (as well as Megan) and it was a little strange (although that was just because Cadence felt the odd one out), Jennifer standing there in all her princess-ness, looked pleased as and smiling toothily. Cadence fell back against the door frame and leant there quietly, scanning faces in the room, trying to figure out if she’d met anyone before. She hadn’t, at least, not that she could remember. Therefore, all she offered was a soft smile, which stayed on her clear glossed lips as she slipped her hands into the pockets of her jeans and fiddled with the ring she worse on her left index finger which had been given two her by the older brother Elliot two years ago on her eighteenth birthday inside the denim pouch; allowing her mind to wonder before (if she would be) she was introduced to the people who seemed to already know each other (though it was obvious that the guy and the girl with the blonde hair were a couple).

She found herself thinking about what was hidden in her bedside table. Hidden not from anyone but herself in all honesty, hidden and untouched. She didn’t want to know, not yet. She was only 20! She had a great job and a great house, great friends and great sex, she didn’t need this small... complication. Sure, maybe in a decade of so she would have thought about settling down with, well, someone, not that she had any clue as to who that might be yet, and possibly having children, but she was young and everything was going her way, she didn’t want a child, but if the possibility that she was pregnant was there (which it was) then she supposed she’d need to know soon. There was only one problem. Cadence hadn’t slept with anyone else since she’d met Jared....





ooc:

sooty
outfit & ring
dress & necklace (but obviously her's says Jennifer xD)

ilikepictures...
sorry about the dismal over the place post.
imma go to beddybyes now.
:D