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                                              It had been three weeks since the social worker had dumped Jesse Rylan Quinn on the doorstep of the Kensington Boarding house. In a way, Jesse was glad it had been here, even though he would have rather gone off on his own. This technically wasn’t foster home. He wouldn’t have been able to deal with that. Jesse was sick of families. He didn’t fit in with families, not even with his own. His mother didn’t get along with anyone, but his siblings? They had all been so close before Jesse punked out. No, ******** up. That was the better wording. He’d been selfish to put his siblings first. His Aunt had tried to convince him that he had done a ‘swell’ job as it were, but that a young kid couldn’t be expected to raise five kids in that kind of house. She had been trying to make him feel better, sure, but it just made things worse.

                                              Out of all of the six Quinn children, Jesse had been the only ‘planned’ child. He had been the one his mom had really loved, in the beginning. The one she had wanted. He had been the product of their mother’s short lived first and only marriage. He’d been the only one who had had a somewhat healthy upbringing, at least for the beginning of his childhood, which he could hardly remember. It wasn’t until Jason was four that things went bad, but those four years of normalcy had given him some sort of hold on the Lucille Quinn that none of the other kids had. He could calm her down. He could convince her to give him money for groceries and other important things. But as years went on, and more kids came, is seemed that that hold was slipping. Lucille didn’t care about Jesse, just like she didn’t care about Toby or Ronnie or Scottie or the twins, Jasmine and Elizabeth. But when their Aunt had come along and taken the kids, Jesse had stayed behind.

                                              Laying bed, Jesse wondered if his aunt and his siblings knew he was here. Would they come to see him? Should he call? He knew the social worker had been trying to get in touch with his aunt Lorraine, but that didn’t mean anything. The last time he had gone to see her and his siblings, they’d been completely disgusted with who he was. He’d over heard his uncle telling Aunt Lori that he was going to end up just like his mom at that point, that there was no fixing him. Lori would have tried. He knew that. But everyone was doing so well. He didn’t need to go and ******** everything up. So he had left again. Gone back to his mom’s , hoping that little dwindling hold would be enough to keep his mother from doing something that would kill her. In his mind, he was the only one who could have helped her, and he had failed, because now he was here.

                                              After everything, it really wasn’t hard to understand why Jesse was the way he was. Accepting it was a different matter. His sarcastic arrogance was enough to drive people crazy. His attitude showed that he always felt as if he had something to prove, and in some ways, he felt he did. He had a lot of guilt riding on his conscience, mainly for letting his siblings down, and that guilt tended to pilot his attitudes towards everybody. Jesse finally pulled himself up out of his bed. He hadn’t been sleeping for a long time but the idea of getting up wasn’t all that appealing. The only thing driving him up was his growling stomach. A growing boy’s got to eat, and all.

                                              The raven haired boy stretched his arms above his head and let out a groan before glancing over in the direction of his roommate’s bed. Empty. Jesse hadn’t expected otherwise. He had been told earlier that he, as well as everyone else in the house would be getting a roommate, but they wouldn’t be arrive until this morning, though some had showed up last night. Jesse wasn’t happy about the idea of sharing a room with some other ********. He’d gotten used to having the place all to himself. He hadn’t bothered voicing complaints, however, because he knew it would get him nowhere. Miss Kensington may not have been a foster mother, but she was very firm with the rules of her house. You accepted what you were told and if you didn’t like it, you could leave: Unless of course you had been dumped here by social workers. Then you couldn’t complain and you couldn’t leave.

                                              Having dressed in a pair of baggy jeans and his favorite red plaid button up, Jesse headed downstairs. He took the stairs two at a time before heading into the kitchen. The chores for breakfast were usually assigned, but Jesse didn’t feel like waiting for whoever it was to get their s**t together to toss some eggs in a pan. Instead, he rifled through the cabinets and found himself a decent sized bowl. Next he headed for the pantry, pulling out a large box of frosted flakes and filling the bowl almost completely to the brim. He had to save room for the milk, of course, which he added moments later. Some extra sugar was the final topping for it all.

                                              Taking his bowl and Frosted Flaked box over to the table, the messy-haired boy sat down and started working on the obnoxiously large bowl of cereal. His eyes scanned the back of the box, giving his something to look at while he ate. The stupid little puzzles on the back had always entertained him as a kid and now they served as triggers for happier memories.



x benTHREW's avatar

Sweet Lunatic

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( - ✮ : YOU'RE LIKE AN ANGEL AND I'MBEING BLESSED。'
xxxxxxx With every second » you spend with me, girl
xxxxxxa n dx h e r e ' s x m y x h e a r t, x g i r l
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
✱◟ And you ) can have it
I FEEL MUCH SAFER × WHEN IT'S × WITH YOUxxxxxxxxxxxx
⋮↘ There's happiness, girl ★★「 And we can have itxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxThe key lies ━ : » between me : and you
xxxxxI'MTONGUETIEDI'MAMESS ━ 」xxx
↘↘
xxx YOU MAKE EVERY GIRL SEEM SO DAMN FAKE TO ME !!
▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰




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                                                      #00bbbb speech
                                                      tab He showed up at my house that night; that terrible ******** night. To put it mildly, he looked a terrible wreck. His pale face seemed to be constantly frowning. The once startlingly green eyes were dull and seemingly vacant, lined red with tears and smudged dark from lack of sleep. Oddly enough, the natural beauty he had still lingered, lighting him with a soft faltering glow. Seeing Deo always brought a wave of emotions out in me; I was angry that he'd gotten me hooked and I couldn't stop, I half hated him for just about everything he did, and I was hopelessly enamored by the tainted innocence that was Deo Anderson. He said he had nowhere else to go, and I assumed it was because his boyfriend Aaron had tossed him out in a fit of rage, angry that Deo couldn't shake the heady mistress that was heroin. His hands were shaking, and I knew instantly. "Withdrawl. I haven't... I haven't gotten high in a long time, Matty," Deo whispered, his voice hoarse, like he'd been screaming nonstop for hours. But that wasn't what bothered me. Deo never called me Matty.

                                                      tab I knew it was wrong. I knew the second I walked out the door, after promising to make the shakes and the darkness go away. I hated myself for rescuing him like this. I hated that he came to me to rescue him, knowing I would do anything for him. And I hated having to look for my dealer at that ******** hour of the night. Her name was Kirsty and her eyes held so much pain that sometimes I hated looking at her. The little pouch of powder felt like lead in my pocket as I ambled on home to my dying best friend like a good boy. I felt incredibly sick to my stomach and I hated it. Deo may not think he had anything left to live for, but I would be damned if I let him die. I had to save him. Maybe after I got him his drugs, we could talk seriously about rehab. Like a good boy, I prepared the heroin with stiff, autopiloted actions, and came to where he was laying on my couch. I pulled off my belt and tied it around Deo's arm, pushing my thumb around for a vein that hadn't collapsed yet. I held Deo's hand as the peace flooded his eyes, washing the pain away. He closed his eyes with a sigh as I watched over him, convinced the temporary pain relief would at least let him rest until we could talk about rehab. It took me a full five minutes to realize Deo's eyes hadn't opened. I freaked, searching frantically for a pulse but there was nothing. "No, Deo! You can't do this! You can't leave me!" I sobbed, but it was no use. Deo was dead. He wasn't coming back.


                                                      tab Matt closed the journal with a slam, his hand hurting from so much writing. His therapist back home had given him the journal to finally come clean about everything, to get it off his chest. Not that it helped. You see, Matthew Jay Harris had PTSD, or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, which is why a therapist is involved. After aiding and then watching his best friend die, Matt was plagued with sudden nightmares, cold sweats and terrible panic attacks. He quit heroin in favor of anti-anxiety meds and he hadn't looked back yet. Heroin had killed Deo, and Matt didn't want anything to do with it anymore. Sure the withdrawal sucked, but he'd rather brave the shakes, the pain, and the sickness than end up like Deo. He was pretty useless to just about everyone he knew. His parents didn't want him, Deo was dead, and only a very small percentage of people would probably cry if Matt died. One of those people was Rori, pretty much the only friend he had left. It was strange the way people back at their shitty third world school used to assume they were together. It wasn't a far off assumption. Matt and Rori were close, a step closer than Matt and Deo had been, and sometimes Matt treated her like his girlfriend. He'd hang onto her hand sometimes, kiss her, and act like her boyfriend. Then there was those other times where he acted like her older brother, scolding her for going home with some a** or drinking too much. It was a strange, multi-faceted relationship, but Matt wouldn't have had it any other way. He would never be normal, so why start now with normal relationships?

                                                      tab Speaking of Rori, she was still asleep beside him, probably still worn out from yesterday. It was something out of a movie, the way they had run away. They'd talked about it so much, wishing it could be real. In fact, most of their time that they were stuck at their dinky little school was spent in Matt's trunk thinking of elaborate ways to run away. Maybe they'd take nothing with them at all and roadtrip from coast to coast. Maybe they'd go hide in a big city, change their names and make a whole new life for themselves. The future was so bright back then, even though Matty was waist deep in his heroin addiction back then. He didn't know how he'd go anywhere with her when all he wanted to do sometimes was get high. Sometimes he wouldn't talk to her for days, too busy shooting up and freebasing to realize that time was passing. But last night was scary. Matt had come to Rori's window at midnight, sober for the first time in a long time. Deo had died a month ago and Matt hadn't touched smack since. Rori's stepfather was starting to amp up his abuse and Matt was so disgusted by it. It had to change. So the run away plan was set into action because Matt couldn't let her suffer anymore. She was halfway out the window when her father burst in the door, on thing on his mind. He completely freaked the ******** out when he realized what was happening. Matt had never been so scared in his whole life. But Rori got out in the last second and jumped. Of course Matt was waiting on the ground, catching her easily. They grabbed their bags and ran, dodging shotgun bullets since her father was hanging out the window, cussing a blue streak and trying to shoot them. A bunch of long bus rides and the two of them practically dragged themselves to Miss Kensington's, collapsed on his bed and went right to sleep.

                                                      tab Matt smiled a little and bent down, kissing her cheek. Rori was beautiful when she slept. Her face was softened, no longer tensed from worry and fear and defiance. She was almost childlike as she slept, unworried and happy. "I'll try my best to take really good care of you, Rori. I promise I will. I love you so much," he said softly. Matt never spoke his feelings out loud to her. It was stupid and Matt never liked to appear stupid. Their relationship was all ready ******** up and difficult. They didn't need to throw something as irrational and unpredictable as love in the mix. But Matt couldn't deny that he felt something more than best friend affection towards her, though he'd never say it. Sure, he told her he loved her, but like a friend would tell another friend. It was only when she was sleeping that he said it like he wanted to. Matt slid himself out the bed, hoping not to wake her up, and padded out of the room. Withdrawal sucked so much a**. After emptying his all ready empty stomach into the toilet, Matt sighed and brushed his teeth. Heroin was his worst enemy, and his best friend. He was using so much that he was starting to shoot up to avoid the sickness instead of just to get high. Matt didn't have a reputation as a junkie for no reason. But that was the thing about Matt. He never did anything just a little. He could never just do a little coke. He had to do all the coke. He never could just do a little bit of heroin. He had to shoot up his whole baggy that night. Miss Kensington required daily chores in exchange for free residence but Matt couldn't bring himself to think about that now. He was so tired. Dragging himself back to the bed, he flopped down on it and wrapped his arm around Rori, drawing her in close to him again. They would get up soon, he knew. But right now, he just wanted to sleep a little while longer.



( MATTY *◟⇣ JAY )
x benTHREW's avatar

Sweet Lunatic

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                &! FEELING ➡ ◞ SO EASY ❞ × } ´
                xxxxxxxxxxxxx ↷` xxxMake me - skin and bones !!
                xxxxxxxi ' m xa l w a y s x o nx m y xk n e e s x f o r x y o u x
                xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx✦⋮ YOU BREAK LIKE IT'S EVEN ) WHEN YOU'RE FAKING IT
                xxxxxxx And, thin, where the hell have you been?xxxxxx





M o n a x M o n t g o m e r y


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                                              #FFA3AE speech
                                              tab Mona really liked flowers. She liked the garden in Miss K's house, and she liked the greenhouse. So when she checked the schedule of chores after making her bed that morning, she was overjoyed to be back with the flowers. So she tied her long hair into a high ponytail, grabbed her gloves and her boots and went outside to start her work. There were probably some kids that abhorred doing chores, but Mona was happy to help. Miss Kensington hadn't forced her to go home, deal with her problems, stop running, so Mona practically owed her, her whole life. Once the garden hose was hooked up to the water supply in the greenhouse, Mona yanked the thing across the yard until she reached the garden. Once she'd found the garden, Mona begged Miss K to allow her to get outdoor lights to put all through the garden; it only took a week to convince her, and now the flower bushes shined with many twinkling lights at night. Thankfully they were waterproof, Mona thought, as she misted water across the azalea bushes. She paused at the rose bushes, like always, and frowned in disgust.

                                              tab Roses were a bittersweet thing in her life. Her mother had rose bushes at home, in the backyard, and Mona could remember growing up, always wanting to play in the rose bushes. She wanted to put on her prettiest dress ad go skipping down the garden path and twirl in the sweet-smelling petals and have fun. But her mother wasn't having it. She was never allowed to even go near the rose bushes, even though their gardener secretly plucked a long-stemmed rose from a bush and would give it to her - after plucking all the thorns off for her. Her mother would always ask where Mona got the rose, if she would see her playing with it. And Mona would always just say she found it laying on the ground. But she hated that she wasn't allowed to play in the roses. She hated her mother for keeping her in some cage, only letting her out to walk down a runway and be a good girl, when the real Mona was starving to death and cutting her ghosts into her skin because she was angry and scared and hurt and sad. Like a woman possessed, she reached out and grabbed a rose blossom, plucking it from the stem. She glared at the crumpled petals in her hand, having half a mind to spit on them, and then threw down down into the grass, disgusted. Mona often did have random dissociated moments, where she felt as if she was not her body, but someone else had shoved her out and took control. It only lasted a few seconds, a minute at the most, but it was frightening. Coming back to herself, Mona looked down at the ruined rose petals at her feet and she frowned. "Sorry," she whispered, as if the rose petals would hate her forever.

                                              tab Mona went on her way, misting water across the flowers, trying not to freak out. She frightened herself sometimes, with all the weird things that happened to her. Dissociating, starving, occasionally cutting her feelings into her skin. Mona had problems, and that made her a freak. If her mother knew even about her acute OCD, she would most likely slap Mona and tell her to stop whining and suck it up. In the Montgomery home, feelings were not acceptable. They lived in a happy little, perfect home with a mommy and a daddy and a cute little model daughter, in every sense of the word. Her father was always at arms-length emotionally. He didn't know how to handle his wife's body image issues, and then living through her daughter vicariously. He was always locked away in his study, doing work. Mona never knew what he was doing in the study, and he only came out to get more tea. Sitting at the dinner table was like a war zone. Mona would take too much, and her mother would comment on it. "You're going to eat all of that?" she would ask, with the undertone of disgust. Mona would hear it, feel disgusted with herself for taking so much, and would put half back and pretend she was happy with it. When her father wasn't there, it was the worst. Left alone with her mother's sharp words and vicious eyes. She was never good enough for her mother. She could be the perfect size, with the perfect body, the perfect life, and her mother would find something wrong or make up something if she couldn't find a reason to be angry. Her mother was very good at that.

                                              tab Mona knew she couldn't blame her eating disorder on her mother. Ultimately, it was Mona and Mona alone that made the choice to begin starving and start the slippery slope of anorexia. But her mother had been the catalyst, and Mona knew that. She would never been good enough for her mother, and that ate her alive inside. Sighing, Mona knew she needed to think on something else. Thinking about her mother was depressing her. She'd caught sight of Nix this morning. He was a strange boy, though Mona couldn't judge. She was strange herself. But she liked him. He was one of the few people that held Mona's respect. They only ever exchanged a very small handful of words, mostly all business, but Mona respected him. Little white scars littered his arms, oh so obviously screaming how they got there, and he didn't try and hide them. He didn't talk about them, but he didn't try to hide them away either. Mona envied that in him. He wasn't ashamed of his problems. He was straightforward about them, even if he never spoke them out loud. She didn't put him on a pedestal, thinking he was some great thing, but she wished she could be as open with her issues as he was. Hiding things was getting tired.

                                              tab Mona put the garden hose away and yanked her gloves off, padding back up the steps. She grabbed the small watering can, filled it with water and went around watering the plants inside as well before she headed back to her room. Sometimes, Mona wished she could be quiet. Or couldn't see, perhaps. Not being able to see would be so nice. She wouldn't see how fat she was. Maybe she wouldn't care what she looked like if she were blind. The mirror freaked her out. And so did the scale. Or, rather, the numbers on the scale that proclaimed her fatness for all the world to see. Speaking of scale... Mona padded to the bathroom and locked the door behind her, pulling up a loose tile that she'd hidden her secret, super precision scale under. She stripped her clothes off and stood on it, waiting for the weight to register, and them sort of smiled. Ninety-three point four pounds exactly. Not bad, but she needed it down to ninety pounds. It was her third goal. She replaced the scale and the tile, pulling her clothes back on quickly before she walked out of the bathroom to her room. She was roomed with Leilah, who, albeit had the sexual appetite of a shark, was very nice in her own right. Mona liked her, and envied her. How could she stand to be naked in front of all those guys? Mona felt her ugliest when she was naked. Although she loved her hipbones and her spine and her collar bones, the girl on the other side of the mirror would scream that it wasn't good enough. Starve more! Eat less! You fat whore! Nothing was ever good enough. She would never been good enough. The only thing she was good at was starving, and she even managed to ******** that up, too. Mona passed by her room and plopped herself at the table in the kitchen and sighed. Sitting in the kitchen made her actively deny the desire to eat, and Mona loved a good challenge. She loved the way her stomach rumbled angerily, but she ignored it because she was strong. Empty/strong/empty. She sighed again, feeling tired. She was always exhausted anymore. Sick little Mona-bean. Sick, starving little Mona-bean. And nobody cared enough to help her. Nobody ever would.


                                              ooc: left gif is outfit; right gif is music :3



                                                        &: Mirror lie to me — 」
                                                        xxxxxxxxxxxxTELL ME YOU CAN SEE
                                                        xxx( ↘ MAYBE YOU WON'T BE ABLE TO RECOGNIZE ME NOW )
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ISAACTAYLORTHOMPSONxxxxxxxxx
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                                          Isaac honestly couldn't believe the predicament he was in. Why couldn't he have just picked up a deadly habit of knitting? Maybe then he would've kept the house his mother worked so hard to raise him in. He missed that house, quite a lot actually. It was old and creaky, but it was home to him. It provided him with years of memories for after the day his father beat him up. Just thinking about his father made him feel ashamed. Isaac never wanted to turn out like his deadbeat father, but after his mother's dead, he didn't have a choice. Shame rippled through him that only alcohol could make him forget about. It was bad that he could only deal with it through alcohol, but what else was he supposed to do? He was already asking a lady for boarding despite the fact that he can't even pay her. She was a lovely lady; one that told him not to worry about it as long as he did his chores. Coming from a house where his mother raised him, she wouldn't have to worry about him slipping up on chores. That would be disrespecting the very lady that was protecting him from being thrown out to the streets. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do to pay her back for her kindness. Isaac just hoped that the other people living with her were decent. Otherwise, she might kick him out for the many blunt comments he might make about them. If the guys were assholes to the girl, he'd probably knock them around to teach them to pick on someone their own size.

                                          Isaac lugged his stuff up to the room the nice lady had assigned him. He had thanked her for letting him come into her home before decided to go meet his roommate. He wasn't stoked about sharing a room, but considering the fact he had nowhere to go, he figured it was better than nothing. With one arm, he ascended the stairs, bursting into room six with a start. He grinned wildly, hoping that he had disturbed his sleeping roommate. The grin quickly faded when he took one look around the room and realized no one was there. Isaac saw two beds - one that was made up and one that was slightly rumpled. He contemplated on whether or not to move the other's stuff so he could have the other bed but decided not to at the last minute. Why cause chaos right as he moves in? Taking out the flask that bulged in his pocket, he took a quick drink as the familiar whiskey scorched his tongue. Isaac tossed his stuff onto the ground, hopping on the bed that he now claimed. He pulled out a few picture frames, setting them up near him so he could look at them. He gripped one to his chest, holding it tight with his now white knuckles. He glanced down at the picture stuck inside, his heart seemed to stop when his gaze settled on his mom. "God, I miss you like crazy, momma." He muttered, setting the picture frame down on his pillow. Just thinking about his mother's death made his heart thump with rage. Why couldn't the authorities be just a bit quicker It would have saved him a lot of pain rather than making him see his beloved mother's stiff body.

                                          Thinking about his mother made his body go into panic mode. Isaac's hand instantly made for the flask he kept on him. He undid the lid, tilted back his head, and let the alcohol run through his mouth. Why did he have to go to that party? Why didn't he just stay with his mom? Millions of questions ran through Isaac's head as he laid down on the pillow. His shirt rubbed slightly against his clavicle piercings, making him wince as his head settled down on something cold. He lifted his head up and took the picture frame from the pillow. Clutching it to his chest, he closed his eyes and wished that none of it had ever happened. The male heard shuffling from outside and decided to go check it out. He propelled himself off the bed, opening the door and peering out into the hallway. Isaac saw a blonde female rush into a different room which spiked his curiosity. There were girls here and not just boys? The thought slightly excited him as he shuffled down the hallway. He rapped loudly on the door, pulling it open and putting his hand over his eyes. "Good morning, ladies. I'm Isaac. I hope you're decent because I'm going to remove my hand now," Isaac paused, pulling his hand away from his face as he met eyes with the blonde girl. "Hi there, gorgeous. Would you like to go on a walk with me?" Isaac's tone was sincere as a smile played across his lips.

                                          Isaac thought the girl was attractive, but he knew he could never get too close to her. His heart was too guarded to fall in love with someone who might rip it out. He saw how devastated his mother was for leaving his dad. It affected her quite a lot, but she never let it get the best of her. So, the male knew quite a lot about heartbreak. It was not something he even wanted to mess with it. Why even bother getting close? "I'm promise I don't bite. You could show me around, I'm new here." It suddenly dawned on him that he hadn't told the female his name just yet. "Oh, I'm Isaac, by the way." He added as he flashed her another famous grin of his. He lifted his hand up to his neck, rubbing it as the shirt pressed against his collarbone piercings. He winced a little bit before returning his gaze back over towards the girl. "Sorry, I'm not aiming that towards you. I just got my collarbones pierced. They hurt like hell every time my shirt rubs against them." Isaac quickly apologized for his behavior, knowing his mother would have slapped him if he winced at her. Actually, she wouldn't have even let him get any of the piercings he had. She would have ripped them out if he came home with them and she saw. His mother was pretty stubborn about not tainting your body.
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Dapper Fatcat

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✕ ✕ ✕

╔═════════════════════╗

the juvenile delinquent ;
noah elliot marlowe

╚═════════════════════╝

✕ ✕ ✕







                                                      It had been a long night at the Marlowe household. There’d been argument after argument about what to do. A number of phone calls from the poor Malone boy who nearly died. The boy currently resided in the hospital after having spent the night in intensive care getting blood which Marlowe’s family had generously paid for in an attempt to keep lawsuits from shooting their way. The last thing Mr. Marlowe needed was for his multi-million dollar business to be sued. Marlowe spent most of the night in the chair in their library while his father paced the floor with frustration. His mom tried to console him. The dark brown hair of his father had streaks of grey in it and he pulled at them tightly with frustration. The skinny, blonde woman who looked much like a sexy secretary rushed to his side, wrapping her arms around him and cooing in an attempt to calm the man down before Noah was asked to leave the room and he would, and he’d wait outside, and he’d be called back in and then forced out once more. He didn’t know what time his parents went to bed, but by the time he was actually told to go to bed and not to worry about it, he wasn’t tired. It was 2am and he spent the next three ours staring at the ceiling as he laid on his back. Sapphire eyes decorated with long lashes finally flickered shut and he laid there for another few ours before he passed out just in time to be woken up 3 hours later by his parents.

                                                      Dark green and blue plaid pants decorated his legs and a black undershirt which clung to his thin form. His bleached hair was a mess that he quickly ran his thin fingers through in an attempt to pat down and put in place. ”Noah, get your things together.” That’s all his dad said, popping in the door. He dropped a luggage at his door and after given the order, he moved to it, packing it in a timely manner with neatly folded clothing. With his necessities in his bag, he dragged it out to the front room where his parents were waiting for him. As they went out to the car, everything was silent and it was only minutes after they’d gotten into the car that it was all explained. That his parents had chosen this decision to leave him in the custody of Miss Kensington and her boarding house to see if there was any difference. They didn’t suppose it was their fault. Marlowe didn’t even hate them.

                                                      They shoved the blonde out of the car after letting him know it was either this or it was possible he’d go to juvie. They let him know that the courts weren’t sure if it was their parenting or if the child was just destructive, so he had a choice and this was one. To go and live with a bit of independence and the eye of another adult since he was only 16 and they weren’t going to let him legally declare independence. Noah was hardly stable for that. His parents wanted to work with him, but they couldn’t and they didn’t want him being sent to some place like Juvie for multiple reasons so what was left was Miss Kensington’s… God bless if her home could help their child.

                                                      The boy, still dressed from head to two in his pajamas, only difference now from when he woke up was the blue converse on his toes. He didn’t normally make a habit of looking like a slob when he left the house, and yes he did consider this to be the look of a slob, but he just did not care. His dark blue luggage was pulled behind him as he walked into the house. Miss Kensington had been fully prepared for the boy’s arrival this morning. Earlier the night before the police had called her and given her the situation to see if she was willing. The kind hearted woman was all too willing to aid the near criminal boy.

                                                      Once he entered the house, he released the bag in the front room. He slipped his shoes off, lazily tugging at them with his feet and shoving the untied shoes off and leaving them wherever they fell. There were more important things to do than to put his things away. The blonde left his baggage in the entry room as he made his way through the house looking for the kitchen so he could take anything and eat it. It wasn’t like it was hard to find the kitchen. A deadpan expression stuck on his face as he moved across the room and picked up the box of cereal that was on the table all for himself. He didn’t ask before he simply stuck his hand inside. This wasn’t only child syndrome, this was just pure feeding his own needs over everything else. Before any cereal actually made it to his mouth, he stopped his hand, though he continued to make an exit. ”If they’re such a pain, I can assist you in ripping them out.” His voice purred with a monotone to it that reflected the flat look on his face. That’s all he said before cereal was popped into his mouth and out the door he went.

                                                      He had something to sustain him so he could take his things to where he was directed. Greeted by Miss Kensington, she led him onto the room where he would be for the time he stayed there. He pushed the door open, uncaring of anyone who might have been in it as his thin, 5’6 structure walked in the room. Bare feet pressed against the carpet flooring and he led his bag over to one of the beds. He left it there before he sat down on the bed. He didn’t really want to be awake, but he wasn’t sure what the chances were of falling asleep again if he laid down. So instead he plunged his pale fingers back into the box of frosted flakes and inserted them into his mouth in a handful.
                                                      xxx




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⋙ Currently Located in his room ⋘
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We could have been anything
But now I lost it all.
S o sit here boys and girls, let me tell you.
A story of a boy xxxxxx of a boy,
A story of a boy xxxxxx of a boy,
Of a boy who never mattered
So sit here boys and girls.
Let me tell you,
A story of the girl, of the girl

Of the girl who never Cared

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                                                    A blonde girl's green eyes looked at the unfamiliar ceiling above her. Where were her posters of her favorite bands, celebrities or even her male models. Her covers were the classy zebra print ones she had at home, but just plain ones that didn't stick out in the least bit. How boring. The girl sure hated boring things, they didn't grab enough attention for her to care about them. Let alone for her to believe that they even mattered to her. For now the whole boring things in her view would have to wait. She needed to know where she was. The blonde sat down on the bed and closed her eyes to clear her head. What had happened last night. Isadora's eyes shot opened as she remembered. Last night her and her parents had a big falling out. They had caught her in a scandalous act. Izzy guessed her parents had enough of her, even though that was their first sign of her defiant nature. They had not seen any of her other little habits. The girl was one for parties and its sinful tendences. There were probably dozens of pictures of her drinking or maybe even smoking a little weed. There was at least twice as many photos of her making out with some guy or making a fool of herself. Izzy loved to be the center of attention no matter if the attention was good or bad. The blonde just knew she wanted it. She would give all she had to someone who was giving her the attention that she wanted. But that's what the boys usually wanted in the end anyway. They just waited out until they got it and then left her in the dust. Last night's contender would probably be no different.

                                                    Isadora blamed all this on her parents. After all who would just send their daughter away just for having sex in her own room, in her own privacy? Obvisously hers. It wasn't like she was a child anymore either. She was practically an adult and it wasn't like she was in their room dirtying up their sheets. They should know better than to just barge in. Knocking was invented for a reason. Still the blonde wasn't bitter about them finding her doing the deed. She was more pissed off at their actions for them seeing her. First, they freaking made her bedmate go outside with just his underwear on, embarrassing him to no end she could imagine. Then they made her leave in the middle of the night with nothing but a tee shirt and underwear on to come to this place with her clothes and her white teddy bear in her arms. The nerve of her parents, they obvisously didn't want her at all. When Gianni was caught joy riding a brand new mustang and brought home by the police did they send him away? No. How about when Ian was caught making some drugs in the school chemistry lab, did they even bat an eye? Not even a wink. But when she was found sleeping with a guy, not even doing anything illegal Izzy was sent right out the door to Miss K's. How did that even make sense? It didn't that's for sure.

                                                    The teen couldn't do anything now, that's for sure. She had spent the night crying herself to sleep, the girl wasn't even sure if she kept her roommate awake or even the house awake. The blonde suspected that her parents didn't give an ounce of care for their only daughter. They never went to her soccer games, she was always the star. Nor did they attend her parent teacher meetings, never did she get lower than a C+. They always had time for Gianni's football games, and Ian's multiple academic competitions. They cheered her brothers on, they praised them. But never did they do such a thing for their daughter. Daughters were suppose to be the apples over their parents eyes. That little fact seemed to be looked over by the Chens. Their daughter was useless in their eyes. Worth nothing more than the dirt on the ground. That's how she saw it in her parent's eyes. Isadora didn't see the sparkle in their eye when they spoke or even looked at her older brothers. Their eyes at her were emotionless and empty. Isadora searched for the attention else where. Guys had always taken interest in the girl when her parents hadn't. You've heard that girls with daddy issues were the ones to go after. Well when the girl had both mommy AND daddy issues you got Izzy. She was a perfect target for those hormonal boys. Only a handful of them did she actually really like, only a few of those actually made it to the bedroom. It were the sucky ones that she stuck with, the ones she liked the blonde would push them away afraid that they two would start to look at her with the same emptinness that her parents did. But boys were one of the things that got her in this place.

                                                    This had been the icing on the cake for her. All the realization had seeped in last night and her emotions had poured out. All the hate and disappointment that her parents had for her had struck the blonde right in the heart. But life went on, and Izzy had to learn that in this unfamilar place. The girl stood up and walked right to the nearby mirror. She was a mess and needed to get fixed up pronto. The teen like most other teenage girls was very into her appearances. At all times her face had to atleast look nice, her clothes didn't really mattered. She could always take them off and change them. Make up and hair required more effort and time. Sometimes those would last longer than the clothes on her body. The blonde left her room with the clothes she had come in with, a simple white t-shirt and her underwear. The need for shorts didn't get through her mind just yet. After all she was just going to the bathroom and then she would put on her actual clothes for the day. Besides the t-shirt went past her bum, no one would no unless she bent over, and Izzy didn't see a reason for doing so.

                                                    Izzy walked to the bathroom, not acknowledging if anyone was in the hallway or not. She washed away the dried up tear stains on her cheeks and combed out her bed hair head. She had brought her morning necessities in with her so she could do everything in one go and not go back and forth between the two. She was quick in the bathroom, not wanting to make any of her housemates wait, in case they really had to go. Isadora walked back into her room and got changed. The girl was in a undefinable mood. She was neither happy nor said, anxious nor excited. Her emotions felt numb, almost as drained as she felt when she took her medicine. But the girl figured that the feeling would past when one of her housemates would come into view. Talking to someone always made her feel better. Their full attention was always on her, some would find it intimidating, Isadora found it relieving, that she was at least worth the attention of a stranger. So out the room and into the halls she went. Looking for someone to make conversation with. The girl got along with most unless they called her Dora. She was not Dora the ******** explorer.

                                                    Out Of Condoms: Outfit to the left icon, music to the right icon.


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                                                  Thinking things through usually wasn’t part of the deal when it came to Nikolai Brett Monroe, known only as Nix to those who did or didn’t know him. However, this time around, he had done quite a bit of thinking, and for quite a long period of time. Now, as he revved the engine of the car he had taken from the compound yard less than an hour ago, the same dark thoughts swimming through his mind as they had been for months. Of course he was making the right choice. It was surprising he had even managed to last this long. Nobody was going to miss him. He had nobody left to miss. His mother sure as hell wouldn’t. All of those families he’d been with? He would be lucky if they even bother to remember his name. But he would remember theirs. Their names were inked onto his arm in simple, small black print to be taken with him to the grave. The social workers would be happy to have another case closed on a pathetic run away. They could stop looking, if they even did that.

                                                  Nix took a swig of the clear liquid he had concealed inside a water bottle. He wasn’t drunk. Not even close, but the familiar burn of the vodka on his throat helped him clear his mind a little. It was the first sip he had taken since he had gotten into the car. He had brought it only in case his thoughts became too overwhelming as they had just been, though he had sworn to himself that he could go through with this without the aid of alcohol. ”Ah screw it.” he muttered. He grabbed the bottle once again, unscrewed the white cap and tossed it back, his throat on fire as he managed to chug the remainder of the bottle. Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, he used his free hand to turn on the radio, cranking it up to the highest volume. The sudden blast of music got the attention of passer-byers on the street. Another smirk graced his lips and he laughed. ”Wouldn’t be a show without an audience” he said to himself. With that, he pressed his foot down on the gas, gradually increasing his speed. He wasn’t sure where he was going yet but it wouldn’t be hard to find once he saw it. He swerved around other cars in front of him with ease, an eruption of honking horns and angry yells following him.

                                                  The smirk lingered on his face as he continued to drive the street recklessly, his eyes scanning the all too familiar streets. Then, he saw the park approaching on the left. It seemed close to empty at this hour in the morning. Flooring it, he sped through the intersection, hearing more blaring horns. His heart raced as he jerked across the lane, his eyes locked on his final destination. There was a large oak tree between his car and the entrance to the park, but he wasn’t aiming for the park. He kept his eyes locked on the tree, crushing his foot down harder on the pedal although he was sure it couldn’t go down anymore. He took a few rushed, shaking breaths as he heard people screaming things like ‘are you crazy, kid?’, ‘what the hell are you doing?!’ and ‘slow down!’. But what did they care? This was his choice, not theirs.

                                                  The distance between his car and the oak tree was shrinking quickly. It wasn’t until he was about five seconds away from hitting the tree that he remembered he hadn’t unfastened the seatbelt like he had planned. Normally he didn’t even use one but he originally planned to make it look like he had lost control of the car and had planned to jump out before colliding, not wanting headlines to read ‘Unknown Youth Commits Suicide in Local Park’. It would be easier on everybody’s conscience if they thought it was an accident. It would make it easier to still visit the park. So, pulling his hands from the wheel, he fumbled for the seatbelt release, but his finger continued to slip off of the button. Taste of Ink by The Used blasted from the radio as Nix gave up on the belt and threw his arm over his eyes as the car collided with the tree at full speed. The sound of scraping metal screeched in his ears and he felt himself being thrown forward. His head collided with the steering wheel, and everything went black.


                                                  Nix bolted up in his bed, causing a sharp pain to shoot down his left side. He still hadn’t fully recovered from that accident, as if he could call it that. That had been seven weeks ago, yet he could remember it like it was yesterday. He tried to push the sound of the crunching metal out of his head as he threw his legs over the side of the bed, wincing yet again. He had pain medication in his bedside table drawer but had decided he didn't feel like taking them. Pain was something you just learned to live with. He didn't need some crack-pot prescription to sugarcoat things for him. Besides, he kind of like the feeling. A constant pulsation of pain to remind him he was still here.

                                                  It was odd for him still to be here, let alone doing his fair share around this house like they were all some kind of family. If he was being totally honest with himself, which rarely ever happened, he was glad he survived that crash. Being sent to Mrs. Kensington’s was probably one of the better things that could have happened to him. Nix had thought for sure that they would have put him back in foster care, which he wouldn't have been able to handle again. He would have left, like before. The Kensington house was different. The woman owened the house, but she didn't act like some kind of parental figure. It was more like room and board in exchange for a few chores. Despite that, she did make all of them feel like they belonged here. Nix felt safer here than he had ever felt anywhere else in his life. But that didn’t mean the demons went away. They were still there, in his head and on his wrists. He’d gone crawling back to the blade to keep the silent not long after he'd arrived at the house. He always did. It had become his sense of comfort through the years: a constant in a life that changed every day. People left, memories faded, but the scars were always there as a reminder. The steel kiss was always there for comfort.

                                                  Nix rifled through the dresser drawers. His clothes had all been provided by Mrs. Kensington, seeing as beforehand he had had nothing to his name other than a hoodie, a dirt stained pair of shredded jeans, and a white wife beater, which had been far from white when he retired it. Those articles had been chucked after the crash however, not that he needed them anymore. Finally the raven haired boy found something to wear. He picked out a simple pair of jeans and a black long sleeved shirt. He wore the sleeves pushed up to about his elbow, revealing the scars that decorated his arm in every direction. They overlapped even, because he had begun to run out of room. He didn’t bother to hide them. It wasn’t like it did him any good. They would always be there. It was the fresh cuts he would go out of his way to hide, when they returned. Old scars were battle scars, but fresh wounds were weakness. The fresher cuts had been placed now on the inside of his upper arm, hence the long sleeves.

                                                  There were people in the hall, people he didn’t know all that well. Some were older residents like him, but he hadn’t had more than a handful of conversations with them. Still, he managed a nod before heading down the steps. He checked the list hanging in the kitchen and saw he was on lawn duty. That would be fun with his banged up body. He shook his head and headed from the kitchen. Nobody was down there cooking yet, but he wasn’t hungry. Not yet. Years of being on the street shrank your stomach. He ate maybe twice a day, if that, and what he did eat was small. Not ridiculously small to cause concern, but not the amount you would expect for a growing boy of seventeen years old.

                                                  Not entirely sure what to do with himself, Nix plopped down on the couch. The television sat before him, but he didn’t turn it on. He wasn’t a fan of television, not that he had ever gotten to spend much time in front of it. He just hated how things were so dramatized. And everything they did decide to talk about was usually pointless celebrity drama. He didn’t give two shits about any of it. He looked around the room. Nix still wasn't used to being indoors so often. He preferred outside. It was open and free. Inside was like a cage, boxed in from every which direction. He supposed living how he had for so long ******** with his perspective.

                                                  ooc: still need to fix this layout -.-







you'd be the CORPSE and xxx i would be the KILLER
you'd be the CORPSE and xxx i would be the KILLER
i'd be the DEVIL and xxxxxxx you would be the SINNER
i'd be the DEVIL and xxxxxxx you would be the SINNER
you'd be the DRUGS and xxxx i would be the DEALER
you'd be the DRUGS and xxxx i would be the DEALER
everything you say is like xx MUSIC to my ears
everything you say is like xx MUSIC to my ears
x benTHREW's avatar

Sweet Lunatic

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                &! FEELING ➡ ◞ SO EASY ❞ × } ´
                xxxxxxxxxxxxx ↷` xxxMake me - skin and bones !!
                xxxxxxxi ' m xa l w a y s x o nx m y xk n e e s x f o r x y o u x
                xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx✦⋮ YOU BREAK LIKE IT'S EVEN ) WHEN YOU'RE FAKING IT
                xxxxxxx And, thin, where the hell have you been?xxxxxx





M o n a x M o n t g o m e r y


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                                              #FFA3AE speech
                                              tab The kitchen smelled awful. It smelled like antibacterial soap, grease and rotting food. The kitchen was the worst room in a house, in Mona's eyes. It was made up of things that tempted you and tried to kill you at the same time. And breakfast. What a rotten meal. Breakfast taunted her as much as dinner did. You must eat your breakfast, Harmony. Breakfast makes you big and strong. Breakfast makes you a cham-pee-on. When she was a real girl, breakfast consisted on granola topped with fresh fruit. The fruit depended on the season, and what was ready in her mother's garden. Usually she read a book in the morning as well, munching her granola, sometimes giving herself a splash of yogurt because it was delicious. Now, breakfast was a joke. Cut breakfast out, eat the bare minimum if anything at all during lunch and dinner was usually mandatory in the Montgomery house. Skipping breakfast was fine, lunch was annoying but tolerable, but dinner was a must. And Mona dreaded it. Usually dinner was 9OO plus calories, which was horror in her book. On a good day, Mona ate 8OO calories maximum, though 5OO was preferred. Her day started with dinner, and she would eat just enough to keep her fuel tank going and everyone off her case and restriction the next day was a given to make up for it.

                                              tab She watched, with barely contained disgust, as Jesse poured himself a bowl of cereal. 3/4 a cup of cereal was 12O calories, but by the looks of it he had at least five 3/4 a cup. 45O calories, and that was without the splash of milk. Mona felt sick for him, and yet, also very envious. How did people do it, day in and day out? Push food past their teeth without cutting everything up into perfect bite-sized pieces? How did they not count the number of times they chewed each piece before swallowing? And what did it feel like to not care? Did they even think about the horrible, panic-inducing things that Mona thought of constantly concerning food? No, of course not. Mona was alone in everything. Nobody understood. Nobody ever would. Turning her eyes from Jesse and his food, Mona dug her nails into the palm of her hand, savoring the sting. Starving had hurt in the beginning, but she got used to the emptiness. She needed something else to punish herself with. That's when she turned to cutting. Cutting was a different flavor of pain, stemming all from the deep, swirling cess pool of self-loathing in her heart but somehow a different kind of pain. Starving gave her power over food, cutting gave her power over her emotions. It was nice. The control was nice. She refused to think she was on a runaway roller coaster, even though she felt like she was sometimes. Jerked around constantly, up down up down up down. It was a rotten existence and she wanted off. But life seemed to reject that idea, because she was still stuck here, a ghost with a beating heart. In between worlds.

                                              tab A voice from nearby forced her mind out of the fog and she lifted her green eyes to a boy she'd never seen before. He had holes with steel rings in pretty much every available space of flesh on his face and plugs in his ears. And he was... talking to her? Perhaps he was an alien, and didn't know how rotten she was. Maybe he could smell her decaying and he was a vampire, looking to feast on her rotten flesh. Or maybe he just wanted an easy lay, thinking Mona was easy to manipulate and bend to people's wills. Here, though, Mona answered and obeyed nobody. Miss Kensington was an exception, of course, but Mona felt like she owed the woman for saving her life. The other kids, though, Mona didn't owe anything. Not a thing. And she didn't plan on giving anything up. Not her eating (or lack of eating) habits, not her cutting, not her life story, not her soul. She was giving nothing. And the way he was talking was strange. She'd never heard the tone before. Was he flirting with her? The word itself tasted foreign in her brain. He'd called her gorgeous and Mona had to physically restrain herself from looking around to see if he was addressing someone else. So he was a blind alien! Delightful! He couldn't see how whale-sized she was, how her fat hung off the sides of the seat she was pretty much cracking by sitting on.

                                              tab Mona let him go on and on, half wishing he'd leave her alone. He introduced himself as Issac and then went to rub his neck like some shy little boy when he winced. She frowned, ready to flip the table over on his face when he apologized and said he'd gotten his collarbones pierced recently and they hurt. Unconsciously, Mona traced the V-shaped bones under her sweater, poking out noticeably, if she wasn't wearing a sweater that covered them up. Mona loved seeing her bones poke out of her skin. Her collarbones and hip bones were her favorites; they were so sexy. She loved the pronounced V-shape that stretched across to her shoulders and the slope of her stomach, flatter than her hips that scooped into little bowls under her jeans. Mona wanted to keep her concave stomach for as long as she possibly could, because it made her feel strong. Her stomach was shrinking, so it was obvious it didn't want to be filled. Food was a waste anyways. Plants survived on as little as water, so couldn't human bodies be trained to do the same thing? Thinking about her bones made her feel better, and she was glad for the distraction from the kitchen. She stood up slowly, absently pulling her sweater sleeves down over her palm to hold in her hands. Normally, she would have done this to hide the scars on her wrists but she was freezing cold from walking around outside that morning. She was always cold anymore. "I'm Mona," she offered finally, reaching up to push her bangs aside so she could look at him properly. "And I guess we could walk around. Anything to get out of this kitchen. It makes me sad." Her stomach dropped to her boots. Why the [********] did she just say that? Jesus ******** Christ. He'd think she was psycho. Who the ******** got sad sitting in a kitchen?


                                              ooc: left gif is outfit; right gif is music :3



                                                        &: Mirror lie to me — 」
                                                        xxxxxxxxxxxxTELL ME YOU CAN SEE
                                                        xxx( ↘ MAYBE YOU WON'T BE ABLE TO RECOGNIZE ME NOW )
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                                                                  AND THIS SILENCE STRIPS ME BARE AND YOUR BODY PINS ME DOWN.
                                                                  xxxxxI'VE NEVER BEEN SO SCARED TO BREATHE, AFRAID TO MAKE A SOUND.
                                                                  » but all I know is you'll n e v e r let me go
                                                                  ▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄
                                                                  xxxKICKandSCREAMandBITEandBLEED
                                                                  ( )
                                                                  AND P R E T E N D IT'S ALL DREAM



                                                      There was something about watching landscapes slide before her eyes that calmed Aurora Hastings. It was one of the few things that could soothe her when she was uneasy, and today she had most definitely been uneasy, though she refused to let it show. She kept her gaze steady, fixed on the trees and buildings that passed, one by one, in soft blurs. She didn’t know where she was going. To London, maybe, to see her father. The intricate architecture, the tall beautiful women that made Rori envious, and the cute boys. She tried to muster up an image of her father’s face, tried to picture the beautiful clocks and old keys he had always collected resting on the mantle, but the image wouldn’t stick. Not even her imagination could summon him when she needed him. Letting out a silent sigh, she pulled her eyes from the window. At least she was getting away from Garret. Anywhere away from him was good.

                                                      The train continued to chug along the beautiful scenery, but soon enough the buildings began to lose their color. They faded and fell before her eyes, crumbling to nothing. She pressed her hand against the window, watching as it all fell away. The trees disappeared. Everything. Before long, the canvas was blank. The train sped down a long line of nothing. The whiteness of it all hurt her eyes, and she cringed. She turned, trying to find Matty, but he was no longer seated beside her. Every seat was empty and she was alone. Rori couldn’t catch her breath as the train’s breaks screeched to a halt, pulling free from it’s imaginary track. Her body was tossed from her seat as the train vanished too, leaving her alone in a bright white nothing. Falling down into nothing. Then just like that, the white turned into a deep blue, and she was cold. Water. She was underwater, still unable to breathe. She kicked her feet and flailed her arms, trying to get to the surface, trying to breathe. She could see Matty’s reflection peering down at her, reaching for her hand, but he only got farther away. Looking down, she could see the hand wrapped around her ankle, pulling her down. She screamed beneath the water, kicking all the harder, trying to escape. Her throat burned and her chest felt ready to explode from the lack of oxygen. Matty’s face was so far away now, and her body quaked with fear and defeat as Garret pulled her down. Down to the dark abyss, leaving her alone with him forever.

                                                      ---------


                                                      Rori woke with a start, shooting upright in the bed, inhaling deeply as if she really hadn’t been able to breathe for all that time. Nightmares. They visited her almost nightly, but she had never gotten used to them. She didn’t think she ever would. Her heart was going a mile a minute as she covered her face for a minute, trying to calm herself down. When she finally opened her eyes again, she was taken aback by the room. This wasn’t her bedroom. Pushing the foggy clouds from her mind, she remembered yesterday. She and Matty had done it. They had run away. A small smile managed to form on her lips. She was free.

                                                      Looking down at the boy beside her, she could see she had woken him, a worried look on his face. ”I’m fine” she said before he could ask any questions, snuggling back down beside him. She intertwined their fingers, another method taken to further comfort herself, and pressed her lips to his for just a moment or two. He made her feel so safe. He always had. Rori wasn’t known to keep good company, but Matthew Harris was probably one of her better friends of the few she had. The baby-faced boy had been a friend of her for quite some time now, and had managed to work his way into a place in her heart that not many people were granted access to. He didn’t judge her, as most people were quick to do and she had never been able to thank him properly for that. Instead, she did her best to convey how she felt by being there for him whenever he needed her, which had been quite frequently as of late. Some people could easily get the wrong idea about the two of them, if they didn’t know how the minds of both Rori and Matty worked, jumping to the conclusion that they could maybe be an ‘item’. This assumption would, of course, be entirely untrue. While Rori did love Matty, and they fooled around every now and again, it wasn’t in that way. It couldn't be. He was her best and most trusted friend, and the very first person she would run to if she were to ever need help, but that was the extent of that. After all, she didn’t believe in real love anyway. Not for her.

                                                      She returned her head to his chest and let out a contented sigh. ”We did it, Matty,” she said softly. ”We actually did it”. The idea of being away from Garret made her happier than she could express. To be free of his hands and his drunken breath in the middle of the night had always seemed so far from a reality. But they had made it happen. They had gotten away. He couldn’t find her here. At least not for a long time. Theu’d crossed state lines. Far away. That was where they were. She was in control now. Control was something Rori needed to feel like she had. For a long time, nothing was going the way it should of. After her mom’s death, it was just her and Garret and with Garret, there was no control. Garret took what he wanted, when he wanted it, how he wanted it. It had been that way for years. Control for her now was a vital aspect.

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ISAACTAYLORTHOMPSONxxxxxxxxx
thealcoholicxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


                                          Isaac noticed one thing instantly about the blonde haired beauty. She was incredibly tiny. He was almost sure that she might break at any sound above a whisper. He felt almost protective of the girl, gazing around to make sure no one could suddenly hurt her. It was a bit bizarre how skinny the girl was, but he didn't say anything about that. It would have been disrespectful to the girl for him to do that. He offered her a warm smile, suddenly considering the fact that she was a possible mute. She suddenly spoke out loud which surprised him for a moment. "Well, hi there, Mona. I like your piercings." Isaac's warm smiled stayed firmly on his lips out of friendliness. He pointed towards her lip piercings, letting his gaze fall down to her lips. His smile never faltered, even when she mentioned getting sad about the kitchen. It was a strange statement to make, but he decided to lighten the mood for her. "Yeah, this kitchen makes me pretty sad too. There's not any liquor." Isaac put out his lips in a fake pout as he blinked his eyes in an innocent way. Then, he let out a throaty laugh at his own statement. It wasn't his fault that alcohol was so delicious. If it wasn't tasty and didn't help him drown his problems then it wouldn't matter to him. Isaac wished he could have a drink or two without getting wasted but that was impossible. At the thought of his drinking problem, he pulled out the whiskey flask, throwing his head back and taking a swig of it. The whiskey scorched his throat, but pain felt familiar. It was like home to him now. Unfortunately, home wasn't good for his health. It might have healed the emotional wounds that bubbled up still, but it didn't get rid of his problems completely. "Alright, let's go for a walk then, gorgeous." Isaac threw the girl a little wink, grinning at his words.

                                          Isaac could tell that something was wrong with the girl. He couldn't put his finger on it, but she was a bit too skinny to be healthy. He guessed an eating problem, but he could be wrong. For all he knew, she could have had cancer and chemo made her skinny. Hell if he knew, honestly. If he got too drunk, he'd probably ask her, but he wasn't even bordering on tipsy. It would probably take another flask or two just to become tipsy. He drank so much that it took more and more alcohol intake to actually get himself drunk. Isaac lead the way out the door he had entered in early. He glanced at the girl beside him in an attempt to size her up. He couldn't read much from her personality. He wished he had some sort of hint as to what she liked. It was obvious from her statement earlier that the kitchen wasn't a very fun place for her. "Are you always this quiet?" Isaac asked with a taunting tone. He was being playful, so he thought he would say something with humor in it. "'Cause I'll talk ya ear off. Then, you're the opposite. What's up with that?" A playful grin stretched itself onto his lips. Isaac rubbed his collarbone piercing with his thumb. "When did you get your lips pierced?" The boy began questioning her on the one topic that he knew they both enjoyed. Considering the fact that she had piercings on her face, he figured she enjoyed piercings like he did. The boy raked his fingers through his hair in an attempt to fluff it up a little bit as he thought about more topics they could talk about. His eyes strayed over to the girl, noticing how prominent her collarbones were. He paused in his stride and leaned in towards the girl. He rubbed his thumb across her collarbones while his face contorted in his thinking face.

                                          "You could get those pierced if ya wanted. I could do 'em." Isaac's southern drawl slipped out into his words. He turned his gaze towards the girl's eyes, giving her another genuine smile. He stepped back when he suddenly realized that he had invaded her personal space. Normally, he wouldn't have been so abrupt, but he enjoyed giving people advice on piercings. If he had to choose one thing to do in his life, he would pick being a professional tattoo artist and doing people's piercings. He had a pretty steady hand when it came to a tattoo gun. If fact, a friend of his actually use to have one and let him tattoo a drawing onto his back. Isaac had done really well, messing up only once and then blending it back together. It was a skill he could do as easily as some people could do Algebra. He might not have been an artist, but he had a steady hand and could copy down a design if he saw it. He wasn't the best, but he could have gone to art school and freshened up on his skills. "I can do tattoos pretty decently. What are you good at?" Truthfully, Isaac wasn't sure where he was going, but he figured they would end up somewhere eventually. He was just taking the path along the sidewalk. Eventually, he would ask to turn around and hope that they didn't end up twenty miles away. Not that he would actually walk twenty miles, anyways. Isaac knew that he could come up with a bazillion more topics to talk about, but he felt content with the silence that had settled between them. He walked comfortably beside her which didn't mean much since he was comfort with most females he met. He was a ladies' man and enjoyed the attention he received from females. So far, this female was a tough challenge.

                                          "Hmm, wanna tell me something about yourself?" Isaac's accent caught the 's' sound, drawing it out longer than he needed to on his words. He hoped that the female would open up to him - even if it was for a split moment. He wanted to be able to have an actual conversation with someone. Normally, he was too drunk to do that. Unfortunately, he wasn't even close to being drunk which was bizarre for him. Taking out his flask and holding it in his hand as he walk, he drank a good bit from the flask before capping it again. "Ahh, that's good stuff. If ya want any, just tell me." He offered her the liquor too, not sure if she was much of a drinker or not. He honestly didn't quite get how someone wasn't a drinker. Liquor was pleasant-tasting and could be quite fun to mess with. How could anyone not want to drink? "What's your liquor of choice, Mona?" Her named sounded funny coming out from his mouth. He had spoke to females a lot, sure, but her name was unique. He had yet to run into a Mona. "You have a unique name, ya know." He muttered in an after thought as he smiled broadly at her. "Alright, sweetcheeks, speak up!" Isaac started laughing at his new pet name for her. It was hilarious to him at how quick he could come up with a nickname for someone.
x benTHREW's avatar

Sweet Lunatic

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( - ✮ : YOU'RE LIKE AN ANGEL AND I'MBEING BLESSED。'
xxxxxxx With every second » you spend with me, girl
xxxxxxa n dx h e r e ' s x m y x h e a r t, x g i r l
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
✱◟ And you ) can have it
I FEEL MUCH SAFER × WHEN IT'S × WITH YOUxxxxxxxxxxxx
⋮↘ There's happiness, girl ★★「 And we can have itxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxThe key lies ━ : » between me : and you
xxxxxI'MTONGUETIEDI'MAMESS ━ 」xxx
↘↘
xxx YOU MAKE EVERY GIRL SEEM SO DAMN FAKE TO ME !!
▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰




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                                                      #00bbbb speech
                                                      tab Matt wanted to get high. Really badly. He needed to get high. Funny thing about addictions, wasn't it? You could pretend all you wanted that the craving and the itch under your skin wasn't there, but it was. It felt like a million tiny bugs under his skin, poking up from his bones and trying to scratch through his skin. But he couldn't get high for a few very important reasons. First, his veins were collapsing left and right. Soon he'd have to shoot up in weird places. Problem. Second, Rori would hit the roof and then shoot into orbit. She'd be so pissed at him and then she'd leave. He couldn't handle the leaving. Matt all ready felt pretty ******** alone. He couldn't handle her just flying off the handle and walking away. He would lose it completely. Whatever shred of sanity he was clinging to would be shattered and he would probably just overdose and die. Life was hard enough, but without Rori it was almost meaningless to continue living. Deo was dead, his mother was tired of him. If Rori left, it would destroy him completely. The only thing he worried about was his kid sister, Skylar. She was his half sister, living with his father and his new flame. Skylar was important to him. She was this wide-eyed, innocent little five year old and Matt loved her to pieces. Skye liked Rori, too. Matt was usually babysitter when his father and his girl were getting high and he'd drag Rori along because Rori thought the little girl was perfect.

                                                      tab Knocked out of sleep by Rori's nightmares, Matt sighed softly as she worked to collect her breath. She made him nervous sometimes. Really nervous. He couldn't protect her if the bad things were in her head, and he hated that. It was the only place he couldn't keep her safe, and that annoyed him. He'd promised a long time ago to protect her as best he could. He felt like he failed her every time she had a nightmare. He rubbed her back reassuringly while she calmed down, though he was really nervous. The nightmares scared him as much as they scared her. Rori finally turned her eyes down to his and he tried to smile but it felt forced. She said she was fine and kissed him and pushed her fingers between his but Matt was almost inclined not to believe her. If she was fine, she wouldn't be having nightmares. But Matt didn't want to push her. It was too early, and the wounds were too fresh. Maybe this time Rori would actually have a chance to heal completely. Most of her wounds kept getting re-opened because her step father would not stop no matter how old she got. She had a good chance of getting better now, which was a good thing. Matt smiled when Rori spoke. ******** hell, her voice was like music. "We did do it," he agreed, sliding his free arm around her shoulders, twirling his fingers in her hair. "We can stay here as long as you like. I need to figure out how I'm going to afford a place for us. If I can find another band, that'd be ideal."

                                                      tab For as ridiculously self-involved as Matt was, when Rori was around, he felt as if his needs didn't exist. He was so hell bent on making a decent life for her, because he knew she deserved a safe place. Though he knew him being in a band wasn't really the ideal for her. If the band he was in got signed, Matt would be famous. Which would be sick, but that meant touring and albums and shows and being away from her. She'd be left alone, and Matt didn't enjoy that visual at all. He sighed, catching sight of his arm that draped across Rori's back. They were covered in tiny needle holes. Track marks. The badge of his addiction, of how terribly it gripped him. Heroin was a gift and a curse. It flew you so high but it left you sick if you didn't get a hit in a certain amount of time. He hated it. He loved it. Before Deo died, Matt would snort mountains of coke and then shoot up. The coke was just to get him going, but Matt really hated cocaine with a burning passion. It made him paranoid. On just coke, Matt would often hide in his closet, proclaiming that little men outside or the SWAT team were outside of the house to get him. That's when he started doing heroin. Cocaine was first, because it was fun at first, but then made him paranoid. So he shot heroin and found that the heroin stabilized his mood but pushed him higher. Add that with buckets of whisky and you got Matt's typical day. Matt's therapist told him that he used all of his vices to drown out intense pain that he still carried with him, which was probably pretty true. Cold mother and an absent father made for a pretty wounded child, though the wounds were momentarily remedied by the fact that Matt had picked up the guitar at ten years old. Music was an outlet, but sometimes it wasn't enough. And that's where the drugs came in. Matt almost couldn't imagine his life without heroin. At least when he was on drugs, Rori cared enough to yell at him. But what if he got clean? Would he bore her to death? Would she leave him? Probably.


                                                      ooc: this post is ugly and short. please don't hate me forever~



( MATTY *◟⇣ JAY )
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xxOhbabywhenyout a l klikethat
xxxxxxYou make a woman go mad
xxxxxxxxxxxxSobewiseandkeepon
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxReading the signs of my ( body ).
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxAnd I'm on tonight

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxYou know my hips don't lie and I'm starting to feel it's r i g h t














appearances are everything xxxxxxxxx where words fail, music speaks

LEILAH ANAHI LUCIANO
The Brazilian Prostitute




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                                          Possibly the only upside to living in a legitimate house were the beds. They were so warm and comforting. And the blankets! They felt so secure as the sleeper snuggled down into them, warmth filling her body anew. How in the world Leilah had gotten along with them for so long was simply due to the face that she hadn't any idea how wonderful they could be. She smiled in her sleep and rolled over, a small groan escaping her lips. She didn't want to get up. If she opened her eyes, that meant that she would have to face the day and the new kids. She didn't want to deal with them right now. Sure, she liked new people and all, but not when they appeared out of nowhere and one invaded her room. The girl had shown up the previous night, dropped her s**t on the empty bed in Leilah's room, and then proceeded to try to talk to the Brazilian firecracker. Leilah had just stared at her, quite unsure of what to do, and then just left to go find something (or someone) else to do. It hadn't quite worked to the petite girl's advantage, though, and the house had been veritably empty of excitement. Not even her go-to guy for thrills was up for anything. It was disappointing, to say the least.

                                          Another thing that was disappointing was that Leilah was unable to get back to sleep after her new roommate had so kindly slammed the door. Jolting from her sleep, the sound of the slamming door rang through her ear. "Puta!" she yelled, throwing the nearest object (a pillow) at the closed door. Her new roommate, obviously, didn't notice and continued on her way. Leilah groaned loudly and petulantly before rolling over and draping her arm over her eyes. Why did she always get stuck with the bitches? Grumbling again, the Latina pulled herself up, bleary green eyes looking around the room. The other girl's things were piled up in the corner, waiting to be unpacked. Leilah stared at the other girl's things for a moment before she grumbled to herself once more and rolled out of bed. She caught herself quite ungracefully before she hit the ground. Straightening up, the girl stretched, groaning as her back crackled and popped, and then collapsed in on herself. Stretching in the morning always felt amazing. It would have felt better after a long night, ah, "working", but Miss Kensington wasn't having any of her "customers" in the house and it was hard to find a private area in this place. It was nothing like the big cities that Leilah was used to.

                                          Taking in a deep breath, the girl let her mind wander back to her childhood: She couldn't help but smile as the smell of freshly cooking meat and baking bread filled her nose. A few other scents pervaded her nostrils, but the more pleasant ones overrode the stench of bodily fluids. Leilah imagined herself running down the street at thirteen years old, following after an eighteen-year-old Vincente as they meandered through the streets. They were both laughing and shouting at each other to go faster as they dodged in and out of people, leaped over overturned barrels, and pushed livestock out of the way. More smiles and laughter came from the teens as they pushed aside a woman carrying groceries and knocked over a fruit stand in order to evade a swinging club. Leilah dodged expertly and followed after her brother, laughing and cursing the police as they followed after her and her sibling. "Vicente! Espere por mim!" she called, flailing her arms after her brother. He turned and smiled at her before disappearing around a corner. Leilah struggled to catch up, but someone caught hold of her arm and yanked her backwards. The police officers closed in and Leilah struggled, her eyes scanning the crowd for her absent brother. He didn't come back.

                                          Leilah's eyes snapped open as she came out of her memories. That was the first time she'd been caught. The first and last, actually. After that, she always made sure to be extra fast, or extra careful whenever out in public. The police, thankfully, had been lenient since she was "just a child". She wouldn't have talked, anyway. She'd been too loyal to Vincente; was still too loyal to Vincente. Even though he was back in Brasil, Leilah would do anything for him. She would find a way to get him into the States. She'd told him so when he'd gotten deported. She still hadn't found a way, though. She would get there, even if she had to break every rule in order to do so.

                                          Sighing and pulling herself from the spot she seemed to be rooted to, Leilah padded across the room, tugging at the baggy T-shirt she wore as pajamas. She dug through her slowly growing supply of clothing before producing a suitable outfit for the day. After tying the black bandanna around her head to keep her bangs around her face but the rest of her hair back, Leilah eyed herself in the mirror. She smiled, tugging at her shorts so that they rode just low enough on her hips to show some skin, but not low enough to where she would show everything if she happened to bend over. Smirking to herself once again, the girl finally made her way out of her room after she was dressed and made up for the day. The house was strangely quiet. She just chalked it up to the absence of some of the older residents that had finally befitted themselves to move out and the influx of newer people. People had steadily been trickling in for the past two or three weeks, but none of them had really caught Leilah's interest. Well, none of them except for one. A smirk crossed her face as her mind traveled to Nix. He was one to like, indeed. Looks completely aside, he intrigued Leilah. He'd been the only boy (other than that weird kid Jake) to deny her advances. He was a bit more of a challenge for the girl's insatiable appetite for physical attention, which just made him that more desirable. Isn't that always how it went, though? She always wanted what she couldn't have. There was no telling if she'd ever wear him down, but she was determined to at least try.

                                          Leilah's thoughts carried her all the way to the kitchen to check the chore list. "Jantar, hm?" she mumbled to herself, a few ideas for traditional Brazilian cuisine already popping into her head. The other name on the list didn't look familiar to her at all. "Quem diabos é isso?" she wondered aloud. "Provavelmente, um garoto novo." The last statement was punctuated by her patented smile-smirk. It sounded like a boy's name. And if he was new, that meant he would need a friend. Leilah chuckled to herself and stole from the kitchen and into the living room. The sight in the large room made her smile grow. A familiar head of black hair stuck up from behind the back of the couch. A mischievous smirk played across Leilah's lips as she crept up behind the couch. She was careful to keep her steps quiet, a technique she had perfected after so many years of sneaking in and out of houses, and her breathing even as she walked. Nix didn't suspect a thing as the petite girl came up behind him. "Bom dia, Nixie," she said quietly, her hands immediately going to the boy's shoulders. He didn't acknowledge her, as always. Frowning slightly, Leilah let her hands slide from his shoulders, her fingers brushing across the exposed skin of the nape of his neck. She leaned on the back of the couch, a purposeful arch in her back, and placed her arms just close enough to enhance the cleavage shown by her tank top. Despite her previous profession, she was not an outright slut; subtly was the key. Especially with Nix. "Bad night, meu amor?" she asked, speaking her first English words of the day in her unmistakable accent. It wasn't unnoticeable, but it wasn't so thick that one couldn't understand it. If anyone asked her, Leilah would say that it was perfect for the sheer fact that it made people actually listen to her.

                                          Translations
                                          Puta - b***h
                                          Vicente! Espere por mim! - Vincent! Wait for me!
                                          Jantar? - Dinner, hm?
                                          Quem diabos é isso? - Who the hell is that?
                                          Provavelmente, um garoto novo. - Probably a new kid.
                                          Bom dia, Nixie. - Good morning, Nixie.
                                          meu amor - my love



                                          OoC
                                          Herp.
                                          It's up, finally.
                                          Also, Laney, I just kept her with dinner.
                                          If dass okay~
chezaBEAR's avatar

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Lyingmywayfromyou
xxxxxN o n o t u r n i n g b a c k n o w
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxI wanna be pushed aside so let me go
xxxxxxxxxxxxLet me take back my life.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxI'd rather be all ( alone ) now,
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxAnywhereonmyown'causeIcansee,
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxThe very worst part of you is me


ABIGAIL MARIE WOLFGANG
The Neglected Dancer

this is why i'm hot xxxxxxxxx rock it out


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                                                    First nights in new places were always hard on Abbie. She hadn't moved around much in her life, so she'd never quite gotten used to waking up in unfamiliar places. She couldn't count the number of times she'd woken up the previous night, shooting up in bed and looking around frantically like she had no idea where she was. That was partially true. She knew she was at Miss Kensington's rather large estate, but the exact location still eluded her. Abbie liked knowing where she was, not knowing "kind of" where she was. It was unnerving to know that she couldn't readily identify what county or city she was in. But, perhaps that was a good thing. No one else knew where she was, either, so she could live on in peace. The only downside (other than having no clue as to where she was) was that she couldn't keep in contact with the one friend she'd had back "home". Marissa. The thought of her old friend had just added to the insomnia that had been plaguing her for the past month and a half or so. The last time the two girls had been together was on Abbie's birthday right before the court took her away from her home when her father had disappeared. Needless to say, the dark-haired girl stayed up all night thinking about her friend and father alternately. It was a vicious cycle that only made her sink more and more into her depression, which just made it that much more impossible to sleep. Such was her life, though.

                                                    When morning finally came, Abbie was curled up in bed like she'd been asleep. She roused herself as the sun poked its golden head over the horizon, like always, so she could ready herself for the day. All of her things were still in a duffle bag in the corner of the room since she hadn't mustered up the motivation to unpack, but she managed to find her normal dance attire. The air in the room she shared with a rather interesting boy was cold and attached to Abbie's skin as soon as she shed the sweatpants and baggy T-shirt she'd worn to bed. She dropped the clothes on top of her bag, telling herself that she would wash them later, and set about making her bed. According to Miss Kensington, that was really the only thing that everyone was responsible for on a daily basis. She'd also said that the chore list was posted in the kitchen every morning, but Abbie would check that later. Because she was new, she doubted that she would have anything to do. Miss Kensington seemed like the type of lady that would let the new kids settle in a bit before she threw them into the work force of the house. For now, Abbie was going to find the garage. She needed to dance. She hadn't in much too long and the action always calmed her nerves. And, boy, did she need that.

                                                    Wandering through the house was not a fun prospect, but it was the only way that she was going to find the garage. She didn't have to walk around half naked for too long, though, before she finally came to a door that looked like it led outside. Carefully, Abbie opened it and peered into the room beyond. Success! She smiled to herself and pushed the door open fully, slightly illuminating the gloom of the garage. With the door still ajar, the girl searched for a light and flipped it on. She beheld the room before her and smiled. Miss Kensington had said that it was really the only open space in the house where Abbie could still keep in practice until she found a dance studio, but the area was only floored with a smooth cement. Abbie didn't mind, though. She would just be extremely careful when practicing leaps or turns en pointe so that she wouldn't slip and hurt herself. After her initial survey of the room was complete, Abbie set foot into the room. The cement was cold on her bare feet, but she would get used to it in time. And so she began.

                                                    The first thing Abbie did was tie her hair back into a smooth, high ponytail. She followed that up by putting her earbuds into her ears and blasting any fast-paced music she had. Her routine started the same way it always did: a warm up to get her stiff muscles used to movements again. She couldn't help but smile as she moved gracefully through the variations movements; she was back in her element now. Everything was at peace when she was dancing. Nothing mattered anymore except what move she was going to perform next, or whether or not she was going to put on her pointe shoes. She decided against it this time, but still took her time to do a quick barre exercise. Plie. Plie. Grand plie. Eleve. Tendu. Degage. Grand battement. Every word spoke itself in her mind as she performed the appropriate action. Her bare feet slid across the ground in a controlled grace that would look so easy to the untrained eye or simple observer. In truth, though, Abbie was working harder than she'd ever worked in her life. She was trying to sweat out every bad thing that had happened to her in the past month and a half. So far, it was working in small bits. The harder she worked, the better she felt. But there was only so much that she could do before her body gave way and just decided to stop working. Midway through a turn, Abbie fell out and collapsed onto her back, skin glistening with a layer of shining sweat and chest heaving as she gasped for the precious oxygen surrounding her. She spent a minute or two just laying on the ground, soaking up the coolness of the ground until her body stopped violently shaking from over-exertion. She felt amazing, though, and a smile spread across her face. "Better than sex," she joked to herself as she pushed herself off the ground.

                                                    On wobbly legs, Abbie made her way back into the house. Her dance bag was over her shoulder, her pointe shoes clacking against each other as her shoulder jostled the bag about. She felt much less awkward walking through the house in just a sports bra, crop top, and skin-tight shorts, but there was also no one around to really see her. She walked through the living room and saw a Latina talking to a boy sitting on the couch. Well, more like talking at since he didn't seem to be paying attention, but no one else caught her attention until she walked into the kitchen. That seemed to be where the party was. Everyone seemed to be talking about something or other. Abbie smiled at them all, also catching glimpse of her roommate, as she made her way to the cupboard where she thought the cups might be. Lucky guess, she figured when she opened the cupboard and found the glasses. Pulling a short, squat one from the cupboard, Abbie walked to the refrigerator and pressed the glass against the water dispenser. A steady stream of liquid emptied into the cup and Abbie brought it to her lips as soon as it was full, letting the refreshing liquid slide down her burning, dry throat. After the glass was drained, Abbie filled it again. She sipped at the water this time and moved to the counter opposite the two standing near the stove. They seemed preoccupied with each other, so she said nothing.

                                                    Abbie's eyes wandered around the kitchen, taking in every detail. There was a piece of paper tacked to the wall next to the fridge and she leaned forward to read it. The top read "Chore List" and the column below was a list of chores and names. She scanned the paper, but didn't find her own name. Shrugging, Abbie leaned back against the counter and let her eyes wander back to the group. No one had really seemed to notice her, she didn't think, since they all appeared to know each other somehow. Abbie watched as the blonde female and her roommate got up and left. Sidling out of the way so they could get past her, her blue eyes looked up to the blond boy eating cereal from the box and the other boy sitting down eating cereal the proper way. After standing there for a few awkward second, Abbie managed: "Er...hi. I'm Abbie." She offered up a small smile as she sipped her water. It was unusual for her to feel awkward around the male gender, but something in the blond one's eyes unnerved her. She took to looking back to the dark-haired one at the table. He seemed much more personable.

                                                    OoC
                                                    Cheza fails as posting.
                                                    Really hope that this makes sense.
                                                    /sped-read)
                                                    /needs to read things again)
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                                                  Nix’s thoughts had drifted off as he sat there on the couch, his eyes clbosed, his head tilted back against the back of the couch. The boredom made it easy. He could feel a pulsing pain throbbing through his body as he sat there. He expected it. You couldn’t not after crashing a car the way he had. The pain, however, didn’t bother him. He liked it. He was not stranger when it came to pain or any of its friends. Pain was just another reminder that he was still alive. It had been routine for so long anyway, with the cutting. Nix opened his eyes for a moment and glanced down at his arms, taking note of the scattered white lines. There were so many. He traced one with his finger before letting his eyes close again.

                                                  Normally by now, Nix would have been out and about, doing something. Being stuck in the house, even this early, was maddening to him. He felt confined and her felt bored. He was more tired than he usually was at this hour because he hadn’t slept as well as he usually had and it was taking a toll. Him sitting there with his eyes shut wasn’t helping. He felt as if he could just as easily go back to sleep, but he wouldn’t do that. Sleeping away the day wasn’t something he looked forward too. Still, having his eyes closed, he almost wanted to drift off again. It prevented Nix from even noticing the dark haired girl as she came up behind him. When she placed her hands on his shoulder and her voice sounded in his ear, his eyes snapped open, and he whipped around. He knew the voice, but it took him a moment to register it. At the sight of Leilah, he rolled his eyes skyward. ”It’s Nix”. he said with a glare, running a hand through his hair. Nixy. Pft. He hated practically every variation of his name. ”And, you know, sneaking up on people in a place like this probably isn’t the smartest thing,” he muttered. She was lucky she had spoken before grabbing him. At least had known it was a female. His first reaction otherwise would have been to throw a swing.

                                                  He reached up and brushed her hands from his shoulders, not about to stoop to give her the attention he knew she was looking for. She came to him almost daily, as if she could change his mind, but Nix had met plenty of girls like her when he lived on the streets. He knew how to play their game. It was simple, really. You just didn’t give them what they wanted. It wasn’t so much that Nix wasn’t interested. Leilah was pretty, very pretty. He just wasn’t one to hold any kind of respect for people who turned tricks for kicks. Who knew where she’d been and who she’d been with. Besides, he wasn’t a hit it and quit it kind of guy. The last thing Nix needed was to get all hooked up with a girl living at the house. That would lead to drama, no doubt, and he had had quite enough of that in the last several months.

                                                  He let out a yawn and looked up at her from his perch on the couch as she spoke, asking about his night. He smirked. ”Not bad. Rough, maybe.” he replied, rubbing his shoulder. The fact that Nix had been in a not-so-accidental- accident really was no secret. He had come to the Kensington home more than a little banged up and it was still evident in certain things, like when he was on his feet for long periods of time. He raised his brows as he spoke again. ”I’m not even sure if I want to ask how yours was,” he smirked. Leilah, despite living in the Kensington house, had never given up her little habit. She was still out late all the time, doing God knows what for who knows who. Whatever. It was her body. Nix wasn’t judging. Not really, anyway. His first somewhat girlfriend out on the street who had been named Lilly wasn’t so different from Leilah. Nix just knew that anything that went on between he and Leilah would simply be a repeat of he and Lilly’s relationship, which made it in the long run, a waste of time.

                                                  ”So, have you seen any of the newbies yet?” he asked, another yawn slipping through his lips. He shifted his position so he was laying down on the couch, still looking up at the girl as she leaned over the back of the couch. He was pretty sure they had all gotten room mates who were new, but when they arrived was all scattered up. Some had come this morning, which he assumed was the lot that had congregated in the kitchen, which he could hear from his perch on the couch. Others had arrived last night. He had seen a pretty blonde and a black haired boy arrive late last night, but they had headed straight to bed, looking like they had been through Hell and back just to get here. He hadn’t seen them yet this morning, not that he was looking. He was just trying to take some kind of mental inventory of the fresh meat around the house.



                                                  ooc: still need to fix this layout -.-







you'd be the CORPSE and xxx i would be the KILLER
you'd be the CORPSE and xxx i would be the KILLER
i'd be the DEVIL and xxxxxxx you would be the SINNER
i'd be the DEVIL and xxxxxxx you would be the SINNER
you'd be the DRUGS and xxxx i would be the DEALER
you'd be the DRUGS and xxxx i would be the DEALER
everything you say is like xx MUSIC to my ears
everything you say is like xx MUSIC to my ears
x benTHREW's avatar

Sweet Lunatic

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                &! FEELING ➡ ◞ SO EASY ❞ × } ´
                xxxxxxxxxxxxx ↷` xxxMake me - skin and bones !!
                xxxxxxxi ' m xa l w a y s x o nx m y xk n e e s x f o r x y o u x
                xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx✦⋮ YOU BREAK LIKE IT'S EVEN ) WHEN YOU'RE FAKING IT
                xxxxxxx And, thin, where the hell have you been?xxxxxx





M o n a x M o n t g o m e r y


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                                              #FFA3AE speech
                                              tab He talked a lot. Which was pretty fine by Mona. She didn't like talking. Talking made her look stupid, as did every ******** other thing in life. Nothing she ever did was the right thing and it was easier to just be quiet where at least being quiet you weren't doing anything wrong, saying the wrong thing, whatever. And it seemed Isaac was pretty okay doing all the talking. He mentioned her snakebites and that he liked them. She liked them, too. She'd liked the pain. It was different than starving, and different than cutting. It was nice. But she couldn't just get piercings just to enjoy the pain. That'd be weird. Was she always this quiet, he asked. Well, sort of. Nothing she said was worth any value. She was a stupid, fat cow. Didn't he ******** see that? Ugh.

                                              tab Mona stopped dead in her tracks when Isaac did, looking curiously at him when he leaned forward and rubbed her collarbone with his thumb. She resisted the urge to sock him in the mouth. How dare he touch her! Did he not have any sense of personal space? This seemed to register with him as well and he leaned back, going on about how he could pierce her collarbone if she wanted. "I really don't think it's safe to put a piercing gun in the hands of a psycho," she said, trying not to be callous. She was angry and creeped out a little bit. He'd invaded her space, and it threw her off her whole game. She was so disoriented by everything. And she was feeling a little lightheaded. Isaac asked what she was good at and she really didn't have anything to say to that. She wasn't good at anything. She'd failed everything. The only thing she was good at was starving, and she'd kind of failed that, too. She was useless and stupid.

                                              tab She watched with disgust as Isaac continued to knock back his alcohol. It was too early in the morning to be drunk, wasn't it? Well, maybe not for an alcoholic. He offered her some and then asked what her favorite was. Ugh. "Alcohol has a ridiculous amount of calories in it. There's no ******** way I'm drinking calories. I'll get fat...ter," Mona informed him and then chewed on her lip, looking away as they ambled slowly down the sidewalk. She shoved her hands deep into her pockets and shivered, cold. She was always cold. Always. He mentioned that she had a unique name and she shrugged. "It's a nickname. My full name is Harmony, but I hate it. Mona sounds better." Mona ran her fingers through her hair and then frowned when a few strands tangled around her fingers. Her hair was falling out again. ******** ******** ******** ******** ******** ********. Stupid body. When you were starving, your body went into serious crisis mode, thinking it was in a famine. It slowed down all your functions to conserve energy and fuel your heart. That's what sucked about the body. It kept pushing you forward when all you wanted to do was lay down and die.

                                              tab Suddenly angry, Mona stopped in her track and glared at Isaac. "Listen. It's really not all that flattering to get hit on by someone in a glorified mental institution. So spare my ******** sanity and knock it off. Seriously." She wasn't really angry with Isaac. He was just being nice, if not a little too friendly. But at least she didn't have the excuse that people weren't nice to her. She was just a little too wrapped up in herself to appreciate anything. And she was pretty convinced that he only really wanted one thing from her and she wasn't willing to give that up. Mona sighed and turned back, walking back the way they'd come. She wanted to go back to sleep. Her bed wouldn't hurt her, and sleep was the closest thing she'd get to death until she could figure out a way to complete the suicide. She couldn't go back to her mother's house. She wouldn't do it.


                                              ooc: left gif is outfit; right gif is music :3. also this is ugly and short but i am braindead and wanted to get something up. ughhh~



                                                        &: Mirror lie to me — 」
                                                        xxxxxxxxxxxxTELL ME YOU CAN SEE
                                                        xxx( ↘ MAYBE YOU WON'T BE ABLE TO RECOGNIZE ME NOW )

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