Y0UR BL00DY T35T THR3AD. Don't Post.

[the yesterday]

is it me, or something just not right here?

private role play between
S i l e n t - Disastersx && Y0UR BL00DY VAL3N71N3
posting here if you aren't either us would result in something bad happening to you...

[the yesterday]

{xxкαιтℓуη мαяιє ƒυℓℓєяxx}
тнє αвυѕє∂ gιяℓƒяιєη∂

『

σн ωση'т уσυ ¢αℓℓ мє ;; кαιтєє σя кαιт
ωσυℓ∂η'т уσυ ℓιкє тσ кησω ;; тωєηту σηє
∂σηт ƒσяgєт тσ ѕανє тнє ∂αтє ;; נυℓу ƒιяѕт
¢αηт уσυ ѕєє тнαт ιм яєαℓℓу α ;; ρяєтту gιяℓ
ι'м σн ѕσ ιη ℓσνє ωιтн тнσѕє ;; нαη∂ѕσмє вσуѕ
вαву ωση'т уσυ ρℓєαѕє вє мιηє ;; тσ вє α∂∂є∂ ση¢є вяι ƒιη∂ѕ συт!
ι ρяσмιѕє тнєу αяєη'т ¢σηтα¢тѕ ;; gяєу
ι ѕωєαя ι ∂ση'т ∂ує ιт ;; ∂αяк ¢нσ¢σℓαтє вяσωη
ωєℓℓ σƒ ¢συяѕє тнєу'яє яєαℓ вαвє ;; єαяѕ
ι ¢αηт нєℓρ тнє ωαу ι α¢т ;; α¢¢єρтιηg, ¢σмρℓιαηт, мєℓℓσω, ρℓєѕαηт
σн вαву ∂ση'т уσυ кησω ;; мυѕι¢, ℓαυgнιηg, ℓινιηg, αη∂ ¢нєєѕ¢αкє
σн ∂αяℓιηg ∂ση'т ƒσяgєт тнιѕ ;; ѕρι∂єяѕ, нαтяє∂, ρєαηυтѕ, αη∂ вяєα∂ ¢яυмвѕ ιη вυттєя
∂αη¢є ℓιкє тнєяє'ѕ ησ тσмσяяσω вαву ;; νισℓєηт кιѕѕ
тнє σηє вєнιη∂ ιт αℓℓ ;; уσυя вℓσσ∂у ναℓєηтιηє

』

" уєѕ∂єя∂αу ιѕ нιѕтσяу, тσмσяяσω ιѕ α муѕтєяу, вυт тяєαт тσ∂αу αѕ gιƒт:
тнαт'ѕ ωну ιт'ѕ ¢αℓℓє∂ тнє ρяєѕєηт "

[the yesterday]

«Hey there, my name is...»
Andrew Allen Andes
«But you can call me...»
Andy, A, or whatever else your little heart desires.
«I was born on...»
August First, 1992
«So that makes me...»
Seventeen
«What attracts me are...»
everything under our sun. =)
«I belong here...»
I don't like classifications, but I'm definately a hippie.
«My life so far...»
Oh wow... My life has been waaay too enriched for me to tell you everything that has happened so far. Besides, I prefer to let people learn things about me straight from my interactions with them. But, I suppose that since you really want to know, then, why the hell not? I haven't anything better to do. I'll skip over a lot, though. Despite the fact that I'm a generally open person, I still like to keep people guessing. Anywho, some lady gave birth to me... I never met my mother, or father, for that matter. I like to think of myself as one of those kids who gets dropped off by some people in a basket at some one's doorstep. No doubt my foster parents are hiding a lot from me, but I don't care; it doesn't really trouble me that I don't know my blood relatives at all, since, as far as I can remember, I've always had a "family", so to speak. My foster parents (who from now on shall be referred to as "mom" and "dad". I hate the "F" word), had me as their child at least before I was two years old. They say I was two, but they can easily lie about that, since, if I'm not mistaken, a child's memory starts to work when you're like, three. So, in other words, my mom and dad might as well be my "blood" parents, since they treated me like their son since before I could remember. And that's just one thing I wanted to get far out of the way. It's not something I generally talk about, seeing as your parents are the people who raise you-in my opinion. screw science.-and that's that.

Moving on, however. It's kind of hard for me to tell you how I ended up being the person who I am. I mean, my parents were totally normal; working-class, typical, all of that. I guess it was all too boring for me. I wanted to be different from the tree I fell from. As a kid, though, I was always the creative one, wanting to try new things. I picked up music in my fifth grade year of elementary school. I learned how to play the flute. Laugh all you want, but I was pretty bad-a** and picked it up a lot quicker than any of the other girls who played it. The perception of the flute being a girly instrument was my main reason for playing it. I hadn't really seen too many dudes rocking it, so I thought it'd be pretty original for me to pick it up myself. I thought it was pretty cool. And, if I didn't like it, I would still have basic knowledge of music and all of that. Getting more into music, though, I picked up the guitar after the flute. I taught myself all I really wanted to know about it. I can't read the music to save my life, but I can improvise and play sweet songs like a champ. After the guitar, I discovered my voice as a vocalist. I'm not going to brag, since it wasn't the best I've ever heard, but I'll tell you, I was expecting a whole lot less. Ha. Music became a big part of my life after that. I mainly played for the fun of it, and just to appreciate my talents. I never really planned to become a performer, though the idea is on the table right now...

Okay... Here's where the more present things start to come in. High school... I was a loner for quite some time, until one of my best friends found me sitting outside, ditching class, playing guitar. His name was Oliver, and he was pretty tight. He introduced me to a few more of his friends, and that's when I apparently became an official member of their group. I was pretty happy with myself, since I pretty much grew up as the social outcast. With them, I began to realize a few things about the world, and how we as humans were trashing it completely. They opened my eyes on many topics, including war, poverty, animal slaughter, and all these different, crazy subjects. It took them less than my Freshman year to turn me into a bare-foot, peace-loving, organic, vegan hippie, but I was proud of my image. In the summer of my Freshman year, however, I did a few things I wasn't too proud of. It all started with cigarettes. I've had an addiction to nicotine ever since my first Marlboro Light. Then it went to pot, which I admit wasn't that bad, but something I forced myself not to get really deep into. It's not often when you catch me smokin' a joint. It went like that for a year or so, and I still illegally smoke cigarettes. Of course, recently, I was dumb and ate a Sweet Tart this guy in my group named "Psychedelic Psteven" offered me. I couldn't turn it down, though. It was the blue kind, my favorite.
«Who I really am though...»
In word, I'm pretty carefree. I'm open with just about anything. I'm not too rebellious, but I get pretty "tough" when it comes to things like stopping global warming and peace, which are two of the things I stand for. And vegetarianism, though I'm vegan. You've gotta start somewhere. I tend to be pretty talkative in conversations, but I look like a total loser any other time. Hahaha. I laugh a lot, but that's just me, I suppose. I like being happy. I tend to go with the flow, really. It's rare that you'll find me upset or pissed of whatever. I honestly don't care that I'm in detenion. I mean, it could be a lot worse. They thought I was just being silly and pushed down the little pedestal the bust was sitting on, like I was taking a dare or something and did it on purpose. For the record, it was an accident, but I'm not gonna argue. Like I said, it could be a whole lot worse.
«Some things I like...»
The world, music, peace, love, freedom, being carefree, and just about everything else. hahaha.
«Some things I hate...»
The way some people abuse all of the things I like. And that's about all.
«The reason I'm here...»
I tripped and broke this "priceless" bust of the person the school's named after. Apparently, that's destruction of school property.
«Also...»
I generally only wear Moccasins, made from synthetic material, on my feet. I prefer no shoes it all but it's "school policy". Oh, and my parents make me. Oh, and since I'm a sucker for art, I love getting tattoos; my skin is a canvas, simply waiting to be drawn upon.
«My better half...»
Y0UR BL00DY VAL3N71N3

[the yesterday]

____________________________________кαιтєє

I only say that the bruises appear beacuse of me being clumsy...

text text .text text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text texttext text .text text text text text text texttext text .text text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text texttext text .text text text text text text text

text text .text text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text texttext text .text text text text text text texttext text .text text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text texttext text .text text text text text text text

text text .text text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text texttext text .text text text text text text texttext text .text text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text texttext text .text text text text text text text

text text .text text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text texttext text .text text text text text text texttext text .text text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text texttext text .text text text text text text text

text text .text text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text texttext text .text text text text text text texttext text .text text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text texttext text .text text text text text text text

text text .text text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text texttext text .text text text text text text texttext text .text text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text text text text .text text text text text text texttext text .text text text text text text text

[the yesterday]

____________________________________кαιтєє

I only say that the bruises appear beacuse of me being clumsy...

Sleeping on a couch wasn't the best feeling for her back, but it was that or probably have her back broken. She could deal with being hit hard; a little ache at this point in her life was nothing to her. She longed to sleep on the soft, down mattress with him last night. She literally dreamed of his arm wrapped defensively around her body, as if someone would steal her away from him in their slumbers. She wanted to feel the warmth of his body against her own. But she knew it wouldn't happen. Well, maybe. If he wasn't screaming at her, violently pushing her around. It was something that was constant; she'd say something innocent in her mind, but he would take it the wrong way. Being unable to stand up for herself, he'd totally take advantage of that, hitting her around. Of course, she wouldn't care. She knew deep down that she didn't belong with him, and he needed some sort of help, but this was the first relationship she had in awhile, and she really wanted to make it work. She wanted to feel respected. She wanted to be some one's pride and joy. She wanted to loved. So much for that. Almost everyday, she'd wake up with a brand new bruise on her body. Tender to the touch, and making her almost porcelain white skin a mixture of horrific yellow and purple colors. They were terribly painful, but just as worse to look at than to feel. Some of her friends would notice, ask, and she would simply say "I fell down the stairs" or something of the sort. She especially tried to play it cool when he was around when they asked. No need to fire him up. But, that usually didn't work, and he'd end up later, striking her violently. And all she could think was "He'll change... It's just a phase..." Lying to herself was the only reason why she was still in the relationship.


___________


Kaitee awoke, still tired. Her sleep was restless. Well, the actual "sleep" she did get. Most of the night after the fight, she could only lay down and toss and turn, and continue to tell herself "It's just a fight. We'll move on...". She wasn't going to give up on her relationship with Dakota. She promised herself. Her last relationship ended with her and her ex getting into a fight, and she wasn't about to let a repeat incident occur. Kaitee had to admit, she was kind of clingy; always afraid of letting things go, thinking that if she said goodbye, her life would take a nosedive for the worst. Little did she know, that her want to hold on to things was getting her into some major trouble. It wasn't the kind of trouble where people yell at you. Okay, well sometimes it was. But it wasn't because she did anything wrong. Well, she might have. But, it was innocent, for sure. Whenever she would hang out with Dakota, their time together would usually end with her saying the wrong thing, and him practically exploding, going off on her like a drill Sargent would to a new recruit. Except Dakota was little more abusive than that. Sometimes, he'd take it too far. Get into her face, wrap his strong hands around her frail wrists, and constrict them as if he were a giant snake killing its prey. His short nails would find their way deep into her skin and press with great force. Once he was done telling her all the things he had to say, he'd release his strong grip, and push her away from him just a little. Kaitee would glance down at her wrists, which were in pain thanks to his grasp, and see little crescent moon-like marks pressed into her skin by his fingernails. She could only shudder, as she tried to keep her mind off the fact that Dakota probably wasn't worth staying with.

The horrid visions of the fight played in her head when she did fall asleep. She would force herself awake in the nick of time; usually right before he killed her. But that obviously wasn't apart of the fight they shared in real-life. Her head dragged it on until the the very end, which would be her own death. She saw that vision a total of three times, each time was the same. And once she got to the part she couldn't watch, her eyes would shoot open and she would try to come down her racing heart. Once she'd steady her breathing, she'd get up and quietly walk around. Usually, she paced back and forth, trying to get her mind off of the visions in her head. Once that night, however, she quietly sneaked outside with a cigarette she stole from one of Kota's many packs. She really didn't care that he smoked; it was his choice. She didn't know if he would care if she did, though. She smoked quite seldom, only when she was stressed out and needed the nicotine. Lately, however, she found herself craving a cigarette more and more. She didn't know if it was because of the addicting factors of the nicotine, or whether it was the fact that Dakota was really stressing her out. Either way, however, she knew that she would eventually get caught, and she had the biggest feeling that Dakota wouldn't be so happy with the fact that she smoked midnight cigarettes behind his back. Really, she couldn't do anything behind his back. Not that she wanted to, but the fact made it more apparent as to how Dakota was so controlling in her life. As days pass, Kaitee tries to become accustomed to his need to dominate. Besides, men usually played the dominant role in relationships, so Kaitee just thought it was normal. She was wrong.

Kaitee stood up from the couch she slept on and stretched. Her arms reached up and out as she felt a rather comfortable "pop" in both of her shoulders. Being cramped up on the couch in the midst of slumber could really make one's bones kink up. A few spots on her spine cracked, as well as areas in her neck. Once her upper body was stretched out and feeling a little better, she began to walk. Her bare feet felt cold against the hardwood floor, but she moved noiselessly and quite slowly despite this; she didn't want to wake Dakota, and perhaps put him in a bad mood. She found her way into the kitchen as her stomach growled a little. Kaitee pursed her lips as she halted in the middle of the kitchen, and pondered about what she wanted to eat. She scuttled towards the refrigerator and opened it. She bent down and slid open the vegetable crisper drawer and picked up a big, red delicious apple. She slid the crisper drawer shut and closed the refrigerator door. Then, she made her way to the kitchen table. She didn't wash off the fruit because one, she was afraid it would be too loud, and two, because the apple was organic, and it's not like any pesticides that could make her sick were used on it anyway. Kaitee delicately set the apple on the table and then silently lifted a chair and moved it out just enough for her small body slip into the seat. She sat down and lifted the apple, her pale fingers standing out against its vivid red skin, and held it up to her mouth. She stretched out her jaw to take a bite, quickly closed her mouth; she wasn't hungry any longer. She frowned, and set the apple back down on the table. She sighed and then rested her elbows atop the table, placing her chin in her palms. She gazed out a nearby window; the sun was shining and she heard the faint, high-pitched tweet of a singing bird. The tranquil activities of the world outside calmed her, but the actions of the fight took over in Kaitee's head.


_____________


"Okay." Kaitee said cheerfully into the speaker of her phone "I'll talk to you later!" she smiled as she pressed the end button and replaced the cell phone to her pocket. "Who was that?" a deep voice asked. Kaitee turned to see Dakota, who didn't look too pleased. Kaitee offered him a smile and said"My friend, Sarah."

Dakota didn't believe her. "Uh-huh..." he said, making his doubtfulness apparent in his voice. Kaitee still smiled at him, unsure of what to say, or what to do. She knew that if she said "It's true!" or tried to argue with him, the beast would come out of him. Suddenly, he snapped "You have five seconds to tell me how you were really talking to." Kaitee didn't know what to do; her mind was racing as he slowly began counting. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and flipped up the screen. She quickly found her recent calls list and then handed the phone to Dakota. He snatched it from her, only to throw it on to the floor and say "I know you're smart enough to easily disguise the name 'Sarah' with some other guy's name!" He emphasized "guy's", and Kaitee knew that he thought she was cheating on him. No... she thought. I would never stoop to my ex's level... Even if you are a jerk to me, Dakota. And then a tear fell from her eye. The warm liquid rolled down her cheek. At that point, she wasn't listening to Dakota, which she would soon realize was a big mistake. Her mind was on the thought she had. There were two things about it that upset her. One, was the idea of her ex-boyfriend. She wasn't about to let her mind drift into that, however. The other thing about the thought, that scared her more than upset her, was the rage she had in it. Kaitee wasn't the type of person to even think of thoughts like that. She was shocked at the things her brain could conjure up. In fact, she didn't sound like Kaitee at all. She felt like a monster.

But, she wasn't the monster in the current situation. Dakota soon noticed that her attention was averted on something other than him, and through Kaitee's eyes, it appeared that it really pissed him off. "Hey!" he screamed at her, "I'm talking to you!" Kaitee was trying her hardest to choke back all of her tears, now, for she was afraid that if she shed another one, Kota would loose it. Her teeth began to sink into the flesh of the inside of her cheeks and she swallowed, hard, preparing to take whatever he was about to give her. His hands were upon her shoulders and his thumbs began to clamp down on her collarbone, and push down with great force. He's done worse before... she thought, wondering what else he was going to do, or if he was giving her a break. But the latter option was as likely as hitting the lottery. She braced herself for what he would do next. He bent down, and got close to her face. She could smell the scent of cigarettes on his breath. She knew he was going to yell at her, but she was so tempted to kiss his lips, perhaps stop his rage right in its tracks, but she wasn't willing to risk it; what if he hadn't appreciated it? "If I EVER find you with another guy, you'll be lucky to be alive!" And as he yelled that, he shook her violently. Once he was done, he pushed her backwards and she fell on the to the floor, a**-first. He stormed off, and Kaitee simply sat on the floor, astonished, but not confused. She knew he was like that. She knew he would most likely do it to her again. But, she knew she couldn't leave him.


________________


Tears were forming in Kaitee's eyes; the fight just couldn't leave her mind. Her vision blurred and she blinked, allowing the tears to fall down her cheeks. She wasn't usually one to cry, for, she thought of herself as a strong person. But, Dakota seemed to have this strange ability to bring out people's weaknesses and pick at them until the person totally falls apart. He was very good at it, and Kaitee was sure he knew. He seemed to like having power; he liked to know that people would go great lengths to please him. Possibly because he threatened to beat them up or something of that nature. But Kaitee always tried tried to find the good in people. No matter how nasty the person may seem, Kaitee always found something about them that wasn't evil. Kota's was his artsy side. Kaitee thought it was cute that he had an interest in photography and music. Kaitee knew that she wasn't too great with a camera, but she loved music, just like him. She sniffled and smiled slightly at the thought. Kota could make her happy sometimes, and Kaitee figured that it would be asking too much of him to make her happy all the time. Besides, a healthy relationship needed arguments here and there. Kaitee simply overlooked the fact that arguments shouldn't include violent physical contact. Kaitee wiped the tears from her face. She felt a little bi better. "With time..." she told herself. And then, she heard footsteps above. Kota's up... she thought, unknowing of what he might do to her, and somewhat afraid of the very near future. Her eyes fell to the table, and she saw the apple sitting there, realizing she forgot its exsistence. I didn't matter, though. She rubbed her lips together, and prepared herself for what might happen next.

[the yesterday]

A scrawny boy sat up in his large bed, outstretching his arms and spreading his jaw wide in a long yawn. He blinked his tired eyes a few times, as if to wake them up. He rolled his neck around, loosening kinks in it, hearing the slight "pop" of them a few times. He signed contently. Nothing could bring down this day. Nothing could really being down any day for him, honestly. Not even the detention he had to serve at the school. "Detention..." Andy reminded himself under his breath. He shrugged and leaped out of the bed. He glanced over at the clock, noticing that he was already late on arrival. He didn't care; what were they gonna do? Make him stay an extra hour? With his luck, they'd probably do that anyway, even if he was fifteen minutes early, as opposed to fifteen minutes late. He had no intention of sleeping in in the first place, and he wasn't too lazy at all. He presumed that since his body knew it was Saturday, he could get a little bit of extra snooze time. That wasn't the case however, as he began to walk over to his closet, only wearing a pair of boxers, pataches of his skin covered up by tattoos here and there. He had to go to the little Saturday detention thing the school gave him. Or else, he'd have to pay whatever sum of money they told him to, in order to replace the bust that shattered on the floor a few days ago.

He snorted. What high school was he going to? What public institution set out a bust of someone "important"? Especially for everyone to openly touch. It was a pretty stupid descion to place one in a high school, full of moody teenagers who think that they could do whatever they pleased. "And, seriously, if a school can afford a bust, they can also afford a display case for it to go in..." Andy laughed at his idea, however. He hoped that the school would learn, because if he was the first to do that, then he certainly wasn't going to be the last that knock over the bust. He simply shook it off, though. If he was "mad" at anything, it would be the fact that they staff assumed that he knocked it over on purpose. But then again, he thought himself lucky, because if they knew the truth, he'd probably be behind bars or something equivalent. Detention definately wasn't the worse consequence. Besides, he was sure it wasn't that bad; if he could remember correctly, Oliver had gotten detention once, the same Saturday deal, and he said it was no big deal. But Oliver was probably high off some sort of mellowing drug, most likely marijuana, so he didn't think anything of it. Oliver was the most calm, collected, chill, carefree person Andy knew. Infact, Andy liked to call him "C", because pretty much every word that decribed him started with the letter "c". In return, Oliver started to call Andy "A", but that's only because all of his initials started with the letter "a". All of that aside, however, Andy could never tell if Oliver was high or just being himself. Maybe he was never himself, and he was always under the influence of drugs. If so, he has done a great job hiding it; he'd been busted only twice and only got a slap on the wrist for both.

Andy dressed, without showering. He had showered the night before, anyway. If he smelled bad, then people would just have to hold their breaths around him or breathe out of their mouths or something. He wasn't going to please anyone except for the school. He'll sit there for six hours and then he'll leave. It wasn't that hard. Maybe he could catch up on some sleep, perhaps he'd take a notebook and write songs. They were permitted to do school work, right? He could just lie or something, say it's an english project. Maybe they wouldn't care. The one thing he didn't have that was essential for him to write was his guitar. He'd probably take that, too. What was the worst thing they were gonna say? "Put it away." Three little words that weren't very threatening at all. He'd bitterly comply, but wait an hour or so and play again. "I wonder if they'll give us a break or something..." he said to himself, slipping on his favorite pair of tan moccasins. They were made completely of synthetic material. From the faux leather exterior to the soft nylon "wool" lining the inside. He opposed animal slaughter greatly; no animal deserved to be killed by a human for fashion, or food for that matter. It was not only disgusting how they treated the animal, but their slaughter was simply inhumane. He had some respect for free-range farmers, but still. The animals die violently either way. He shuddered, trying not to think of it.

With the idea of the song writing on his mind, he decided it'd be a good idea to go ahead and take a notebook and a guitar. He walked over to a nightstand in his room, where he kept all of his notebooks. He had already filled numorous notebooks, and felt kind of guilty about some, since he had obviously used a ton of paper. Most of his notebooks had recycled paper, but those were the kind with about sixty pages, which wasn't much space for his songs to expand. Usually, he'd simply buy a five-subject notebook and simply take his time filling it up. But as time went on, he'd fill it up faster and faster, realizing that no matter what, he'd be using paper. But, it wasn't like he was planning to throw them away; song writing was an important aspect of his life. It may have hurt the enviroment a little, but he kind of liked the thrill of having a guilty pleasure, despite the fact that song writing seemed so typical and normal to any other musician. He found a notebook with a few empty pages; enough to keep him occupied with. He also found a pencil in the drawer of the nightstand and picked it up. He slid it into the spiral of the notebook, assuring that it was secure. He closed the drawer and then found his guitar, which was stratigically placed right next to his nightstand. He had to have it nearby, that way, if he got inspiration, he could write down the lyrics, and then grab his guitar and think of a harmony or something of the sort. He did that often, but not nessicarly in that order.


____________


A kid with scruffy auburn hair waltzed into the library. He wore simply a plain, v-neck white t-shirt, with a pair of practically destroyed skinny jeans. Granted, his pants weren't dangerously tight, but they were fit. Not that the material had much to cling to, anyway. Andy had a skinny figure, mostly because he was a hardcore vegan. Garden burgers may sound nasty, but they weren't that bad in his opinion. It was apparent that it's easy to get used to eating dirt. He could only laugh at people's faces when they asked him what he was eating, or what he wants to eat. He'd say "dirt" most of the time, and people would look at him, absolutely disgusted. He was only kidding, however, as people usually associate people who have a vegan diet to the Earth, as in grass, roots, and dirt. He really just watched what he ate closely. Usually it was just salad, with organic vegetables. No dressing; most dressings had some sort of dairy product in them, whether it be eggs or milk. He'd make his own dressing sometimes, substituing the animal bi-prouducts with soy or whatever. It was very easy to avoid meat for him. Once he got started doing away with all of the animal products in his life, it became easy for him to eat basically just vegetables. He thought it would be hard at first, and it was, somewhat; he was starving the first few days of not having the protien of meat. But, he had to start somewhere.

The taste of a cigarette was still on his breath as he gripped the neck of his acoustic guitar in his right hand (Who needs a case anymore?), while he pressed his song book to his chest with his left. There was nothing special about the guitar he held, but it was rather eye-cataching. Aside from wear, people had marked all over it with black Sharpie. At first, Andrew wasn't too happy with it, but then he grew to like it, even believing that his guitar was somewhat like him, getting drawn on like a canvas, just as he was with tattoos. His parents didn't mind that he had gotten body art; what else were they gonna do about it? Rip it off his skin? Force him to get it removed? Besides, Andy had paid his own money for them, so it wasn't their loss, really. To be honest, Andy and his parents sort of grew apart. When he left the house to come to the school they didn't even ask where he was off to. They didn't seem to care when he told them he had gotten detention the day before. He kind of liked that they didn't bother him too much; it made him feel independent. Maybe they were preparing for his life as an adult, once he moved out of the house. He hadn't thought of what he wanted to do yet, but he knew he didn't want a boring desk job-that would absolutely kill him.

Andy quickly surveyed the room. Nothing special... he thought to himself. Just a guy on his a**, a girl looking at him funny, a blond haired girl, looking very bored, and yet another blonde who seemed to have a rebel additude, blaring some sort of music into her ears with her feet up on the desk... He smiled a little, though. The room did look quite interesting; everyone was so different. The one, bored looking blond didn't even look like she belonged in detention, the other blond with the music seemed too bad-a** for detention even, the guy looked like he had completely failed to appease the brunette girl. He had seen these kids around before, but had never spoke to them. He noticed that no one else was really paying attention to what they were doing. Perfect, thought Andrew as he found a nice place on the wall to sit. He wasn't going to be typical and sit at a desk. He slipped his shoes off and sat down. He placed the notebook on the floor, closest to his right hand and flipped it open to a clean page. He removed the pencil from the spiral and placed it on the paper, ready to be written with. He fixed the guitar on his lap. Everything was perfect.

Once he was situated, he glanced up quickly. Not much had changed in the room, only the guy was now sitting correctly in a desk, reading something placed upon the surface. Andy simply shurgged and picked at the strings with his right hand fingers, listening for tuning. He played softly, not wanting anyone to hear him play. He was used to playing for auidences, but only people he knew. Plus, if he was too loud, he'd probably be forced to stop playing by a teacher. He was content the way he was. He stared around the room now, looking for a spark of inspiration. A few things were coming to his head, but none spectacular enough to write. He suddenly found himself playing Hey There, Delilah by The Plain White T's. It was a pretty easy song to play, but it sounded beautiful none-the-less. He was about to start singing it, but thought against it. He didn't want too much attention. But then again, he should make the best of this Saturday. He suddenly ceased playing and looked up. "So..." he said aloud, "I know it's a stupid question, but how's everyone doing?" He smiled. He was expecting to hear people say "I'm great. Saturday school makes me super happy" or something along those lines, but Andy didn't care. He needed some people to speak. He craved the interaction.

[the yesterday]

____________________________________кαιтєє

I only say that the bruises appear beacuse of me being clumsy...

His footsteps became more prominent and Katy glanced around. She quickly stood up from her seat in the kitchen, the apple in her hand. She quickly replaced it to the refridgerator and briskly walked towards the living room. She found the couch she slept on and sat down on it, right as she heard Dakota descend the staircase. She nervously bit down on her lower lip, wondering what Dakota had to say to her. Had he forgotten about everything? Was she going to get a clean slate? The chance I have of that happening, she thought, is a snowball's chance in hell. Kaitee wasn't one who would think so cynically, but she knew with Dakota that she'd be damn lucky if acted like nothing ever happened. Sometimes he did, for a minute or to, but Kaitee would eventually hear disgust with her in his voice or see evil in his soft, blue eyes. Kaitee knew, though, that through all of his rage, that he didn't hate her. She had no clue what his motive was to treat her badly, but she knew that if he did actually hate her, he wouldn't be wasting his time with her. She knew she was a push-over, that she was easy to manipulate and control, and she figured Dakota must sense that trait in her. She didn't know if he was simply having fun with all of the power he had over her or that he just liked to be agressive and in control. Either way, Kaitee couldn't bring herself to stand up to him, to leave him. She wasn't worried so much about how he would handle it, but she was worried about herself. It wasn't like her to be selfish, but she couldn't handle being alone; she needed someone, anyone. And other than a few friends, Dakota was all she had.

Her life wasn't all that bad, either. Her parents were never married when she was born, and she was okay with that. People didn't have to know that she was a b*****d child, and even still, it didn't change her as a person. The couple broke up in her early teen years, but it wasn't tragic; both parents told Kaitee that it just got boring, and being the always accepting girl she was, Kaitee was fine with it. No hard feelings, nothing bitter. Life continued for her pretty normally, only she lived with her mother. She really didn't hear from her father, unless it was a holiday. Kaitee wasn't too close to either of her parents, so she wasn't bothered by it too much. Kaitee wasn't too close to anyone, however. She was just "that girl over there" in school, she never bothered to make friends. People would talk to her, and she would talk to them. Some of them would come back and talk to her the next day and then others wouldn't speak a word to her. Eventually the people who spoke to her became her friends, though there were only about three. She wasn't the social weirdo who constantly talked about cats and making lasagna, she was just... quiet. She never had much to say, ever. She was the silent observer. She could sit there and pretty much take anything thrown at her, in terms of words and not have a single thing to say back. And if she did, it wouldn't be mean-spirited or intend emotional harm. The fact that she's had so few people in her life makes her appreciate the people who do communicate with her regularly. She doesn't know why people were so afraid to approach her and say things to her; she knows she's innocent, but her friends tell her "People always figure 'It's always the quiet ones'". And Kaitee doesn't know what that's supposed to mean, even to this day.

She leaned back on the cushions of the sofa she now sat on, letting out a soft sigh. She heard his footsteps descend the stairs. She bit the fleshy inside of cheeks, hoping for the best. She relaxed, though, as Dakota plopped down on the couch next to her. She noticed that he pretended as if she wasn't there, and she was fine with that. It gave her a few moments of calm before the storm she knew would come. She knew that he was there, and she wasn't about to pretend that he wasn't; that would be a huge mistake on her part. He'd scream at her, hit her, until she acknowledged him by letting out a soft whimper or tearing up a little. She knew he liked having power, especially over her, it seemed. Kaitee didn't mind; she was always at the bottom of the totem pole: she was used to it. She gazed at him. He did give off a tough vibe, but that was only because of the choppy hair cut and septum ring he had. But if you looked into his eyes, it would be something totally different, depending on his mood. They were a soft, baby blue. When he was relaxed, they were absolutely amazing to gaze into. But they would suddenly turn icy and cold the second his lips fell into a threatening frown and his eyebrows slanted. Not that you could really see them with his hair covering them, but either way, he looks threatening, scary, but he still looked amazing, either way. Kaitee wasn't with him for his good looks, though. That was just a bonus. She knew she'd get slapped if she said something like "Your so sexy when you're mad." Well, actually, she didn't know what Dakota would do; he was unpredictable. He was giving Kaitee an adventure, he gave her things to think about. Were they positive? Not nessicarly. Not ever, really.

She averted her gaze to the TV, however, and they sat with a silence sitting between them for a few moments. Then, Kaitee felt his eyes on her, she turned, and then he practically demanded to know what she was doing awake. She really didn't know how to answer his question. She gave a weak smile and said "I can go back to sleep if you want me to..." she felt her muscles tense as shebraced herself for what he might do. She didn't have Dakota completely figured out yet. She was almost about to assume that he would answer "yes" to her question, and then knock her out or something. She watched him carefully, though, trying not to expect anything. She was fearful, and it showed. If only life had a rewind button, where she could take back everything she's said wrong. Though, she'd have to go back pretty far, because in her mind, everything she says is wrong. And it only gets worse with Dakota to reinforce her conclusion. Her hands clenched into fists, but not fighting fists; nervous ones. They shook and she pressed her fingernails into the soft flesh of her palm. And one of the most popular thoughts traveled into her mind again. Please don't hurt me... Please don't hurt me... Please don't hurt me...




[[wow... sorry that it took me forever to post this. I'm sorry that it's short, too. D= ]]

[the yesterday]

Wesley Ryan Leeman

" it's showtime "

{ иιcкиαмε } Wesley, Wes, Ryan. All that nice s**t.
{ вιятн∂αy } This sexy beast was brought in to the world on May fourth.
{ яαcε } I'm a sexy vampire.
{ нειgнт } I tower at six foot four.
{ тαтσσs } Just some stars on my wrist. Whatever.
{ ρειяcειиgs } Don't need 'em.
{ αℓℓ иαтυяαℓ } It's a sexy shade of black.

{ мσvιε } If the name "Tim Burton" appears in the credits, then I like it.
{ мυsιc } I don't really have a favorite band, but to name a few, Alesana, November Blessing, Bring Me the Horizon, The Offspring, & August Burns Red. But that's only a mere five of many.
{ тнε ρℓαyℓιsт }
Better Luck Next Time, Prince Charming by: Alesana
Chelsea Smile by: Bring me the Horizon
Storms by: November Blessing
Kickstart my Heart by: Motely Crue
I'm the Type of Person to Take it Personal by: Breathe Carolina

{ ƒεαяƒυℓ } I'm not scared of much. Being powerless if a huge fear of mine, though, I know it will never happen.
{ нαтεƒυℓ }
Anything that barks, howls, or growls; it's disgusting, really.
Vegetables; I'm just like a little kid: I can't stand them.
Over-cooked meat; Actually, I don't like it cooked at all.
Being called a girl; I take pride in my good looks, thank-you-very-much.
Being Bored; It happens a lot when you live forever, trust me.
Overly Gory movies, like Saw; Seriosuly? All the fake blood is just gross. It's like a disappointment; you love it, but you know it's not real.
The Twilight Saga; From what I've heard about it, one night with Bella is all I need to get Edwart off her mind. Ha.

{ ℓσvεαвℓε }
Money; it'll get me anything I want.
My face; It belongs on money.
Guitar; I play, and I rock.
Red Wine; It's a great way to finish a meal... Or just to sip on... It's the only liquor I drink.
Having Power; It's great to rule, really.
Biting; I love working the jaw muscles I have.
Blood; Must I explain?
Humans; They're quite fun.
Blonde Hair; It's the only bright thing I like...


{ ℓσvε мε } brilliant.flirtatious.sexy.vivacious.alert
{ нαтε мε } possesive.manipulative.cold.insensitive.vain
{ σвsεssιvε } I tend to say "sexy" a lot, usually in reference to myself. I'm also know for crushing whatever is in my hands to pieces if I get pissed. And I also tend to do bad things when things don't go my way...
{ ιм ∂ιggιи.. } anyone who appeases me.
{ ιм тнειя вιтcн } Y0UR BL00DY VAL3N71N3

[the yesterday]

w e s l e yxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

sleep all day. party all night. never grow old. never die.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

His bedroom overlooked the brick, horse shoe shaped driveway, which was perfect for simply watching the people pass. He'd stare at the humans and smell the blood that coursed through their veins. He'd listen to their beating hearts as they pushed the blood through them. He would sigh, knowing that he could easily make a meal out of the people who seemed to walk a little faster past the house he lived in. He didn't blame them, despite the fact that he lives in the house itself. He knew the baroque style to it gave a creepy vibe to people. And not that it wasn't taken care of; the house would have crumbled to the ground by now if it was neglected, for it was that old. But just the fact that the humans would associate the discolored bricks, the black, metal fence, and the towers to monsters from myths, legends, fairytales, and whatever else humans enjoyed as literature. The Romanian-style house was well-suited for this monster, though. He had no fangs, wasn't freaked out by garlic, and he could drink holy water all day long. But, he had a blood lust. A human blood lust. He is a monster. He is a freak. He is a vampire.


___________________


Wesley was his name, and he sat on the window sill, waiting her arrival. Night had already fallen, but that didn't change his ability to see; everything in his sight remained clear and in-focus. There was a chill in the atomosphere, but that didn't bother him at all, either. He didn't need a coat or anything to keep warm, despite the fact that he wore a hoodie now. He was always cold to someone else's touch, and the person he touched the most (and touched him the most) was his girlfriend, who was a human. "Kiki..." he said softly, under his breath with a small smile upon his lips. In his powerful hand, he held a wine glass, cupped by his fingers. He had learned to be delicate with fine objects, such as the crystal glass full of red wine he held now, years and years ago. When he first became a vampire, anything he touched shattered to pieces, and he didn't mean it. Now, however, he had the ability to choose what he wanted to smash to pieces with a single touch. He had gained full control of his strength years ago. It took him a little bit to figure out how strong he actually was. He'd practice being delicate by gently picking up easily broken objects, such as glass. And it has certainly paid off, because his strength didn't really show to some people, especially oponents or similar beings to him that underestimated what he was capable of. He appears to be this scrawny kid, but he has the power of many men combined. And you couldn't make that conclusion by looking at him.

He swirled the liquid in the glass around gently as he lifted it towards his lips. He took a quick sip, the deep flavor of grapes lingered on his tounge for a moment or two and was then replaced by the bitter taste of alcohol. All together, the flavor was rich. He looked way underaged to not only be drinking in general, but also red wine. Wesley knew that people of all ages drank it in Italy, but he didn't live in Italy; he lived in America, where young people were found chugging beers and taking shot after shot of hard liquor-not sitting casually, sipping from a fancy glass. He'd rather relax and drink his liquor; he had all the time in the world, so he could do whatever he pleased. If he wished to experience what it was like to recklessly drink, he could. He sort of wished that he did live in Italy at the moment. He had been there a few times, and wished he could stay each time, but living forever and never aging meant that people could catch on that when he's supposed to be twenty five that he still looks seveteen. Not that he'd stay that long in one area at a time. He'd usually stay in a place for two years, which was enough to "graduate" high school. A small laugh came from him as he tried to count the number of times he had graduated high school. He couldn't though; there were far too many.

He could hear her car approaching the house. The engine of the expensive sports car was roaring as he heard her press on the gas. Must be in a hurry to see me... He thought "I'm not going anywhere... For now.." he said to himself. He often spoke to himself softly when he thought. He swears people have heard him, but haven't mentioned it to him. They were wise; they probably would have gotten injured if they mentioned anything of him speaking when no one was there to listen except for the walls. Wesley was easily set off, and some weren't sure why. The snobby rich kid additude? Maybe. He's lived so long, so he's accumulated lots of cash, not to mention that that the "family" he belonged to was pretty rich. He didn't really take money from them, though. He had his own bank. Besides, he didn't need a fancy car or anything; he could get wherever he wanted on foot, faster than any car could travel. People, as in humans, who talked to him and asked him about it, he'd just say that he didn't have a liscense or it got taken away or something like that. He's owned a few liscenses in different lives he has lived, but he decided he didn't need them; besides, the DMV or whatever it was called was so annoying and swarming with humans; it was hard for him to sit still in that place when all the different types and flavors of blood were running around hectically. Not to mention that they don't have very good night hours, and even then, the place was still crowded. Though, he knew he could easily decrease the number of people in the place. Single-handed and quick, too.

Okay, so she was a few miles off. Wesely's five senses were extremly strong, especially his hearing, sight, and smell. He could hear and see the humans he would track and he could pick out the scent of their blood. But, he wasn't completley blood crazed. His experience with humans throughout the years of his life have helped him control his cravings. Actually, he wasn't supposed to interact with humans long enough for them to tell someone about their experience. He wasn't like that, though. He enjoyed a long relationship, recieving compliments daily by a human he had chosen himself, being loved the same. It made him feel like whore when he'd spend one night with a human-male or female- and then terminate the relationship, permanently. He had paitence when it came to humans, because they gave him, well, life, so to speak. They were delicate beings and if they slipped through your fingers, well, then you'd probably have a big mess on your hands. Though, that wasn't a big issue for Wesley, or any vampire, because the human would probably come off as crazy when they reported to the police or media that they had an encounter with a vampire. Some people were skeptics, and some were believers in the creatures, but that didn't matter. Nobody could prove him a vampire. They could only prove him as a liar, a theif. A theif of life that is. Stealing away the innocent lives of humans. They were going to die anyway... He smirked.

The headlights of the approaching car were now lightly refelcting the glass of the window he still stared at. "It's showtime..." he said, place the glass of wine down on the window sill. He rose and stretched, hearing the almost indestructable bones in his body make soft cracking and popping noises. They had been in pretty much the same position all day. He had nothing better to do than sit upon the window sill and watch the outside world as the day passed. He sort of wondered what it would be like if he were a human at this day and age, but then again, he wouldn't want anything else other than to be a vampire. He didn't know how else he would be able to thrive if he wasn't an immortal. Especially if he was a werewolf. The thought made him shudder; in his eyes, they were absolutely filthy creatures. Who would want to be able to turn into a dog? Besides, he knew that they were designed to kill him and his race. And believe it or not, he lived under a roof with one. That's right; there was a dog living with the vampire. They kind of had a little pact that they set up; they wouldn't go at each other unless it was totally nessicary. They still absolutely hated each other, but at least there was peace in the house. Needless to say, they tended to avoid each other at all costs. Wesley would try not comment on how bad the mutt smelled, and it seemed that in return mr. werewolf would try not get in his way or something like that. Wesley didn't really understand why Aiden and his race despised vampires. What were they supposed to be? Some sort of heroes to the humans? Wesley snorted. "They couldn't save themseleves from me..." he said under his breath as he walked out of his room.

He descended the staircase, skipping about three steps with each stride he took. His long legs and grace made it easy for him to do such a thing. The house would have some humans in it tonight, so Wesley would have to be on his best behavior. He had recently fed and he was sure that he would be fine for the night. He made his way out the door of the house, passing all of the exquisete paintings and statues the main hallway had to offer. He quickly exited the front door and found a spot outside to hide in the shadows. A surprise was in store for Kiki as the boy watched carefully and quietly. Moments later, a lime green sports car was parked in front of the house, and a bleach blond was stepping out of the driver's seat. The dark-haired boy in the black, ripped skinny jeans, gold Nike hi-tops, and a random band t-shirt flit, straight out towards her. He kept his distance, passing her. He was moving so fast, no human would be able to see or hear him. He halted noiselessly and then turned. With his long legs, he strode behind her; she didn't suspect a thing. It reminded him of hunting, and for a split second, he was actually thinking about taking her down. Not now... he thought. Not yet... It pained him, the oppurtunity was there. But he couldn't do that to Kiki; some part of him screamed at him not to claim her, and believe it or not, he obeyed.

He was right upon her as she ascened the steps to reach the door. Her most likely expensive high heels clacked against the bricks of the driveway. He could easily see what she wore; a strapless, leopard print dress. The peach background of it went great with her pale complexion and a belt around her waist gave her a perfect hourglass shape. Wesley licked his lips. She was beautiful. Even through all of the makeup she wore. Wesley honestly thought she didn't need it, but whatever made her happy was alright with him. He's had people in his life who couldn't leave their house to pick up the newspaper without wearing some sort of designer clothing item or eyeliner. And then, he's had some people who claim to shower daily, but he could easliy smell that they were lying. All of those people weren't in his life anymore. One by one, they seemed to... disappear. Wesley knew what happened to them, but no one else did. Not even top FBI investigators. He knew how to hide a trail, or make a false one. But he wasn't really in favor of acusing the innocent, and then pretty much having them proved guilty. He was the type that prefered to eat the innocent. Who needed a river or lake or whatever? The best place to hide a dead body was in his stomach. Wesley almost snickered, but he held his compsure, long enough for Kiki to lift her fist, preparing to bang on the front door.

Wesley smirked, feeling absolutely clever."Who's there?" he asked with his deep voice in a slight whisper. A laugh bubbled in his throat for a moment as he wrapped his arms around her from behind him. He placed his lips on her cheek ever so gently and then moved his head down her neck, pausing for a moment with his nose right over her jugular. He smiled and then placed his chin on her shoulder. "It's open..." he said, gesturing towards the unlocked door. "Lead the way in, dollface." And with that, he removed his arms from her and stood at his full stature. He was almost a whole two feet taller than her. He offered his large hand for her to take. He smiled at her. He was already thinking up an excuse as to why his skin was so cold if she asked. An excuse as to how he was able to sneak up on her, if she asked. He'd simply say that we had been waiting outside for her or that it was dark and that he was ninja. Usually, she'd laugh. Wesley had the strangest feeling, however, that she suspected something about him that just wasn't right for a human. He ignored it, though. He knew what he had to do if she found out. It may have hurt him a little, but it just had to be done. It was how he worked. It was how a vampire worked.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
it's fun to be a vampire.

[the yesterday]

i ' v e g o t a s e c r e t
i t ' s o n t h e t i p o f m y t o u n g e
i t ' s o n t h e b a c k o f m y l u n g s
& i ' m g o n n a k e e p i t



_____________chelseasmile.

iknowsomethingyoudon'tknow

____________a Y0UR BL00DY VAL3N71N3 production.
____________inspiration from the lyrics of chelsea smile by bring me the horizon
____________photograph found on photobucket.
____________coding & everything else done by Y0UR BL00DY VAL3N71N3

[the yesterday]

i ' v e g o t a s e c r e t
i t ' s o n t h e t i p o f m y t o u n g e
i t ' s o n t h e b a c k o f m y l u n g s
& i ' m g o n n a k e e p i t



_____________chelseasmile.

iknowsomethingyoudon'tknow

I've got a secret.
It's on the tip of my tongue, it's on the back of my lungs.
And I'm gonna keep it.
I know something you don't know.
It sits in silence, eats away at me.
It feeds like cancer. This guilt could fill a ******** sea.
Pulling teeth, wolves at my door.
Now falling and failing is all I know.
This disease is getting worse.
I counted my blessings, now I'll count this curse.
The only thing I really know: I can't sleep at night.
I'm buried and breathing in regret.
Yeah!
The only thing I really know: I can't sleep at night.
I'm buried and breathing in regret.
I've got a secret.
It's on the tip of my tongue, it's on the back of my lungs.
And I'm gonna keep it.
I know something you don't know.
I've got a secret.
It's on the tip of my tongue, it's on the back of my lungs.
And I'm gonna keep it.
I know something you don't know.
I may look happy, but honestly dear,
the only way I'll really smile is if you cut me ear to ear.
I see the vultures, they watch me bleed.
They lick their lips, as all the shame spills out of me.
Repent! Repent! The end is nigh!
Repent! Repent! We're all gonna die!
Repent! Repent! These secrets will kill us!
So get on your knees, and pray for...
Repent! Repent! The end is nigh!
Repent! Repent! We're all gonna die!
Repent! Repent! These secrets will kill us!
So get on your knees, and pray for forgiveness!
We all carry these things inside that no one else can see.
They hold us down like anchors. They drown us out at sea.
I look up to the sky, there may be nothing there to see.
But if I don't believe in him, why would he believe in me?
Why would he believe in me?
Why would he believe in me?
Why would he believe in me?
Why would he believe in me?
I've got a secret.
It's on the tip of my tongue, it's on the back of my lungs.
And I'm gonna keep it.
I know something you don't know.
I've got a secret.
It's on the tip of my tongue, it's on the back of my lungs.
And I'm gonna keep it.
I know something you will never know.
You will never know.
I know something you don't know.

[the yesterday]

i ' v e g o t a s e c r e t
i t ' s o n t h e t i p o f m y t o u n g e
i t ' s o n t h e b a c k o f m y l u n g s
& i ' m g o n n a k e e p i t



_____________chelseasmile.

iknowsomethingyoudon'tknow

alright, so i'm on the search for a group role play, with a plot based off of the song "chelsea smile" by bring me the horizon. i was thinking characters with really deep secrets. things they have regret towards. not something small; big things. not nessicarly illegal, or totally against the law. all of these people are tied together some way, and it's through their secrets. she knows something that he doesn't know, but he knows something she doesn't know. that type of deal. i'm looking for people who can come up with some damn creative secrets and have interesting things to contribute to the plot. so, if you'r interested, continue reading.

[the yesterday]

i ' v e g o t a s e c r e t
i t ' s o n t h e t i p o f m y t o u n g e
i t ' s o n t h e b a c k o f m y l u n g s
& i ' m g o n n a k e e p i t



_____________chelseasmile.

iknowsomethingyoudon'tknow

alright, so some rules of thumb. uh, i want some decent literacy. semi-advanced literate is the official level of this role play. meaning, if you can't match these, then please don't apply. i mean, we all have those off days, or times when someone might not give you enough to work with to crank out a big post. so, the minimum here will be four paragraphs. uh... i don't know what else to add... i don't care who you use as your character, just as long as it's not a drawing. i don't mind scene kids or celebrities, but if it is a celebrity, i prefer to see pictures of them off the red carpet, without the sponsor's background. just sayin'. i want high-quality pictures, so if you do use a person who is a camera whore, make sure that the photos are taken by a photographer other than the person in the picture. deviant art is a great place for nice photos. pretty much any model has good pictures, too. i enjoy decorated posts, so i expect to see them. and uh... that's about all that i can think of for now... oh, please, i want people who can play both genders. like, in your samples, i want to see a healthy mixture of male and females. i'm gonna let you choose your gender, but i really don't like it when people are confined only to one gender. versatility is a trait i look for in role players. i also want you to be able to contribute to the plot and help make twists in it, because i want this role play to be dramatic and suspenseful. and... yeah.

[the yesterday]

i ' v e g o t a s e c r e t
i t ' s o n t h e t i p o f m y t o u n g e
i t ' s o n t h e b a c k o f m y l u n g s
& i ' m g o n n a k e e p i t



_____________chelseasmile.

iknowsomethingyoudon'tknow

fill this out and post it. kay?


[size=18][color=color]h e l l o![/color][/size] [size=10]my name is;; [color=color][OOC name we can call you][/color][/size]
[size=18][color=color]r e s e r v i n g[/color][size=10] [/size][color=postingcolor][size=10][gender of character you want to reserve][/size][/color][/size]
[size=18][color=color]p r o o f [/color][/size][size=10]of my brilliance;; [url=sample thread][b][color=white][u][color=color]samples![/color][/u][/color][/b][/url][/size]
[size=18][color=postingcolor]o t h e r[/color][size] [size=10] [color=postingcolor][other things you would like to say.][/color][/size]