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                                  Welcome.
                                  I thought of doing a slice-of-life role play set in a boarding house.
                                  With a bunch of misfit characters scraping together just enough
                                  to live. You know, like the TV show Hey Arnold.
                                  "Events" will be centered around holidays and maybe relationship
                                  drama as well. The cast will be a small group of characters
                                  with different temperaments, backgrounds, and problem-solving
                                  approaches. There can also be as many support characters
                                  as needed for events, but the "story" will focus on the main
                                  characters living in the boarding house.


                                  Regarding characters...
                                  They should all be fairly diverse. I don't want a bunch of mid-twenties
                                  straight white people, because let's face it, POC are more likely to
                                  be put into a position where they have to live in a place like this.
                                  Not to say you can't play white characters, but make sure that
                                  their situations are believable. I have written up some character
                                  roles in the next post, but feel free to suggest your own or make
                                  changes so that you can find a spot for the character you want
                                  to create. I will not require profiles, but you can create a relationship
                                  thread if you so choose. Feel free to take as many characters as you
                                  can handle, and I won't put a cap on genders (unless I just really
                                  feel like there are too many of one).


                                  Regarding posting...
                                  I don't care. Post however much or as little as you'd like. Just
                                  give us something to work with. tbh I have too much in my life
                                  to deal with reading a dozen 1500-word posts about a character's
                                  shower. Don't do that. Also I don't care if you decorate your
                                  posts or not.




[ o p e n ] [ o o c ] [ a c c e p t i n g ]
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                      story 1

                        The Owner and The Owner's husband/wife have owned this building for years, and they do a darned good job with its upkeep. Their Nephew even helps out around the place and is generally friendly with the tenants. The tenants rarely complain, and when they do, the complaints are addressed swiftly and efficiently. The Owner, "retired" (rather than unemployed, he/she says) and on disability benefits, is well-known for cooking large, delicious meals on the weekends and is incredibly good-natured, albeit a bit nosy. However, his/her Spouse is a no-nonsense sort and no one dares get on his/her bad side. He/she does have the capability to let loose every now and then, but someone has to run the place! Their Nephew invited in The Runaway - one of his classmates - after she fled her abusive home, and they set up a new set of walls in the attic to create a new room for her to live in. The Runaway has a thing for The Nephew, but she's much too afraid to do anything about it. Plus, her self-esteem has hit rock bottom, and so he contents herself with taking photographs from afar and sealing them in a secret photo album. She and The Nephew are fine friends, but she feels nothing will ever come of it. Life hasn't been too kind to her.



                      story 2

                        The Teen Mom hadn't planned to get pregnant, nor had she even dreamt of it. She was a relatively good girl, so it surprised her family when they found out. The story wasn't pleasant, and she battled with herself for a long time about whether or not she should keep the baby. She decided to go through with it, but after the baby was born, the trauma of the whole ordeal had sent the Teen Mom into murky waters. She experimented with drugs, found herself caught up in the black market, even tried selling sex for money. She wasn't her parents' little angel anymore, and she became violent when it came to finding the funds to feed her addiction. It wasn't until her child's second birthday came around, and after she had been forced out of her parents' house, did she finally decide to clean herself up. It was a long, difficult road, and she still hasn't overcome it, but when she looks at her baby, she knows that she has to get better - to become a role model and a good mother. She found a place to live in the boarding house with the Cat Lady, who treats her nearly as warmly as she would her own daughter. The Cat Lady, despite being an energetic busybody, has been lonely for many years, and while she prefers the company of her cats, she has grown to adore the Teen Mom, who isn't the only troubled person she has taken under her wing. The Grouch has been under her care for some time, although he has his own room in the building. He's a prickly fellow, and the Cat Lady has been the only person to get through to him. For the past several years, he has confided in her - in his own way - and she gives him the respect he has always sought. The Cat Lady has introduced the Teen Mom to the Grouch and hopes that they will get along.



                      story 3

                        The Wanderer and The Addict are exactly the type of people that you would expect to find in a place like this. The Wanderer has been roaming the streets for some time now, spending nights on the streets or on the couches of kind individuals. He doesn't usually talk about how he ended up in his position, although he talks a lot to anyone who will listen, but most people assume that it had something to do with drugs, or a falling out with his family. He claims that he doesn't do anything illegal, but something about him makes that difficult to believe. Even so, since claiming the renovated storage room in the boarding house, he has tried his best to straighten up his life. On the other hand, The Addict is still dancing with his demons. Luckily for him, his charisma earned him a cheap spot in the basement and a "don't-ask-don't-tell" policy, as long as he performs his janitorial duties.



                      story 4

                        The Former Glory has lived in the boarding house the longest, being an old friend of the Owner. To most, he looks like that alcoholic uncle no one invited to the family reunion, but who shows up anyway and makes a scene, and he always carries the smell of cigarettes on his clothes. His hair is bleached to death, he dresses like he stepped out of an 80s television drama, and regardless of the weather, he always wears sandals. Just don't ask about the eyepatch. The Rising Star is the newest tenant, and recently saved up all of her money to take a bus across the country to New York in search of fame. Fame isn't easy to come by, and she's had her eyes opened to the cruel realities of the city, but she's young and refuses to have her dreams crushed just yet. She reminds The Former Glory of the years when he first rose to fame on the stage, but the reminder makes him want both to drink more and to protect her dreams. Sometimes he doesn't always come across as nice to her, however, and few people know that he was once a great singer.



                      story 5

                        Having lived nearly as long in the boarding house as The Former Glory, The Recluse has earned the right not to be bothered. The man is a complete mystery, and stays hidden away in his room most of the time. The few times that he has emerged have been for groceries (he stockpiles cans of soups and vegetables in his room), or Christmas, which he values above everything else. Speculation is that he never bathes, and that he barely knows English, and generally everyone gives him his space. Recently though, a young girl of about 12 years old, has claimed that she is related to him and has set her mind on taking up residence in his room. Now the other tenants are taking bets on how long that will last.



                      story ?

                        Make your own. Feel free to come up with as many additional roles as you need. You can have them filled by other people.

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                                  The Boarding House
                                  This is an old building that's been around for nearly a century. It started as an old mill, but has been renovated periodically by its new owners and has just grown larger over the years. Although it had once been surrounded by a small forest, it is now in the downtown slums of the city. The neighboring apartments are filled with low-income families and shady dives and strip clubs are only a block or two away.

                                  Basement
                                  This is the cheapest rent in the entire house because it lacks insulation,
                                  hasn't been renovated in many years, and has an overall depressing
                                  atmosphere. The "room" is spacious, however, and has its own private
                                  bathroom, even if the plumbing isn't always reliable. There's an old
                                  Persian rug and an army cot leftover from previous tenants, and it
                                  houses the laundry facilities.

                                  Tenants:
                                  The Addict - Max Lambrecht


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                                  1st Floor
                                  This floor is the "gathering place" for most of the residents in the house.
                                  It has a rather large kitchen with a small table in the corner, and a
                                  connected dining room with a much larger table set. There's a
                                  bathroom and a storage room in the hallway, which leads to the
                                  door to the tiny courtyard behind the house. There's a study and a
                                  living room opposite the kitchen, and the owner's room is also on
                                  this floor.

                                  Tenants:
                                  Owner
                                  Owner's wife/husband

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                                  2nd Floor
                                  This floor is mostly multi-use rooms renovated into bedrooms, with
                                  a single bathroom shared among all (except for the residents of 203,
                                  which has a private bathroom). The rooms vary in sizes, which is
                                  reflective in the price of rent. Some are nice, some are... not.

                                  201 Tenants: (medium)
                                  The Grouch - Abel Wáng-Sato

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                                  202 Tenants: (small)
                                  The Recluse - Tevye Donnowitz
                                  The Mystery Girl

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                                  203 Tenants: (large w/ private bathroom)
                                  The Teen Mom - Aliyah Richardson
                                  The Cat Lady

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                                  204 Tenants: (medium)
                                  The Rising Star - Temperance Donahue

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                                  3rd Floor
                                  This floor is similar to the 2nd floor, except it has two large rooms
                                  and one small one, which used to be a storage closet. There is also
                                  a smaller living room on this floor, which can sometimes be converted
                                  to a bedroom if extra guests are over.

                                  301 Tenants: (large)
                                  The Former Glory - Ace D'Silva

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                                  302 Tenants: (small)
                                  The Wanderer - Zorán Lakatos

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                                  303 Tenants: (large w/ private bathroom)
                                  Riches to Rags - Damian Guerrero
                                  The Hitman - Nathan Harrison

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                                  Attic
                                  Similar to the basement, except it has been renovated and
                                  modernized. Walls have been put up to accommodate extra tenants,
                                  but few rent out that room. The owner's nephew permanently
                                  lives in the better of the two rooms. There is a single bathroom
                                  shared between them.

                                  Attic 1 Tenants:
                                  Owner's nephew

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                                  Attic 2 Tenants:
                                  The Runaway - Cam Bousaid

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                                  Support Characters
                                  Anyone who has a relationship with the tenets in the boarding house but does not actually live in the house.
                                  Feel free to request support characters for other people to take.

                                  None yet.
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                                  Application
                                  Post it in the OOC. DO NOT PM IT TO ME.


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                                                      n a m e User Image
                                                      the 'role' living in 'room'

                                                        • full name ( 'name' space above is only for preferred name ) : (put it here)
                                                        • age : (put it here)
                                                        • country/city of origin : (put it here)
                                                        • job : (can also be student or unemployed)
                                                        • favorite thing : ( music, sports, etc. )
                                                        • extra : ( anything else; maybe briefly describe your character )


                                                        Your Samples



                                    [list][list][list][list][list][img]http://i178.photobucket.com/albums/w260/lml74/Untitled-1_zps03438a49.jpg[/img]

                                    [list][list][list][list][list][size=18][b]n a m e[/b] [img]http://i178.photobucket.com/albums/w260/lml74/TypingCursor.gif[/img][/size]
                                    [size=10]the 'role' living in 'room'[/size]

                                    [list][size=12]• full name ( 'name' space above is only for preferred name ) : (put it here)
                                    • age : (put it here)
                                    • country/city of origin : (put it here)
                                    • job : (can also be student or unemployed)
                                    • favorite thing : ( music, sports, etc. )
                                    • extra : ( anything else; maybe briefly describe your character )


                                    [url=URL HERE] Your Samples [/url][/size][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list][/list]

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                              xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
                              xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxI'M A LITTLE LET DOWN BUT I'M NOT DEADxxxxxTHERE'S A LITTLE BIT MORE THAT HAS TO BE SAID
                              xxxxxxxx♛。..LET'S JUST CALL IT OVER
                              xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxit's one to forgive but it's hard to forgetxxxxx xxdon't call me, i won't call you too
                              xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
                              xxxxxx x▉ ▉ ▉ ▉ ▉ ▉ ▉ ▉ ▉ ▉ ▉ ▉ ▉ ▉ ▉
                              xxxxxx xxxxxx xx xxx xxxxx xxxx xxxx۰۰۰ ۰۰۰ ۰۰۰ ۰۰۰ ۰۰۰ ۰۰۰ ۰۰۰ ۰۰۰ ۰۰۰ ۰۰۰ ۰۰۰ ۰۰۰ ۰۰۰ ۰۰۰
                              xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
                              x xxxxxx xxxxxx◞i got two hands, one beating heartxx*↓♡
                              space space space space spaceLET'S NOT MAKE IT HARDER THAN IT HAS TO BEspace space xxxALL THE BROKEN HEARTS IN THE WORLD STILL BEAT



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                              Chess – a strategic board game between two players – sixteen pieces per player, each piece special and unique in its own way. The objective of the game is to capture the opponent’s king. Trap the king in an impossible escape, bringing him down to his inevitable defeat.

                              However, there is a possibility of a stalemate. A position in which the king is always in check no matter the move. Yet there is no defeat. There isn’t an escape, either.

                              Damian supposed his life was comparable to a game of chess. Born into a powerful and wealthy family in Mexico, he could be considered a “king” of sorts. Like the king in chess, Damian was limited in what he could do. His choices in life were predetermined by his parents. For a while he strived for his parents’ approval. Especially his father.

                              His father was a successful man in financial services. He held a high position in the organization he worked for. A valuable member whose opinions were highly regarded amongst his co-workers. When his father spoke, people listened to him.

                              It was only natural for him to want to be like his father. Powerful and successful. He didn’t realize the board was set up for him. Set up for victory. How could he? Blinded by his father’s praise for every success and achievement, Damian was ignorant. And ignorance was bliss.

                              In college he studied to become an accountant. Not because he wanted to, but because it was expected of him. After all he couldn’t waste his talent with numbers. He hated it though. Hated math with such a burning passion, but he forced himself to love it. For his father.

                              Then, he made a poor move.

                              During his senior year in college, Damian fell into temptation. Succumbed down to his darkest desires. He sought the company of another man at a shady bar near his college. An unforgettable night for more than one reason. Because he realized who he was and the man he was pretending to be.

                              His father didn’t understand. Didn’t want to understand. From then on he was kept in a stalemate. His father keeping him in check. Sure, he had a few rendezvous nights in secret, but… he wanted more.

                              When he tried to, Damian brought on his own defeat. Ended the stalemate.

                              “Check.”

                              Damian was dragged back to reality, glancing down at the chess board in front of him. His brows furrowed together, examining where his pieces were again and where his opponent’s pieces were.

                              “You seem distracted.” An older man sat across from him, a small smile fixed on his face. His name was Robert. One of the tenants from another apartment complex nearby. A frequent opponent for Damian whenever he set up his chess board in front of the boarding house. “Ain’t a real win if you’re not tryin’.”

                              “A win,” Damian started, moving his knight to capture Robert’s king. “…is a win.” A smug smirk worked its way on his lips easily. “And I believe that’s checkmate.”

                              “Damn,” Robert breathed heavily. “Thought I had ya there.” He moved to stand up from the metal folding chair, rubbing his back absentmindedly. “Good game, pretty boy. Guess you do have some smarts in ya.”

                              They chatted briefly afterward. Damian tried not to seem in a hurry, but he was sure it was obvious. He wasn’t the best at hiding his emotions. As he waved goodbye to Robert, he folded up the wooden chess board and pieces quickly. He had to look for work after all.

                              No work for his part-time job until the next three days or maybe even longer. Holidays were always the worse. So, Damian figured it wouldn’t hurt to pick up an odd job or two to make up the difference. Or at least try to. He slipped inside, racing up three flights of stairs until he reached his shared room with Nathan.

                              His roommate was nowhere to be found. He supposed it was for the best since Nathan could be rather distracting. Mostly because the man insisted on trading words with him. It was always in good fun though. Harmless teasing and all. Placing the chess board on an end table he kept next to the door, Damian walked to his room.

                              The wooden floors creaked under him making it impossible to be undetected sometimes. Not that he had any reasons to be secretive. Distant memories of sneaking back home flashed in his mind, but he was quick to dismiss them. He had more important things to focus on. Like the present.

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                                                      Nathaniel Lee Harrisonxx
                                                      tab I'M A DEAD MAN WALKING HERE BUT THAT LEAST OF ALL MY FEARS
                                                      tab ITS NOT ALABAMA CLAY THAT GIVES MY TREMBLING HANDS AWAY


                                                            "No one's tracked me down yet boss, pretty sure I am still pretty safe," Nathaniel answered to the aged man sitting across from him. "Also managed to take out the rat you were talking about, he was pretty easy. A druggie, just posed as a dealer and gave him some laced crack. Guy croaked an hour after visiting me, and no one will raise any questions to a junkie dying from buying some bad stuff, s**t happens."

                                                            The older man ran a hand through thinning white hair and kicked the suitcase over with his foot. The payday was always the best. "Still, couldn't of picked a more luxurious place to stay Nathan, that place is a shithole compared to your loft uptown."

                                                            "That shithole raises no question, they won't expect someone like me to go live in a low income boarding house, let alone live somewhere that means I have to deal with a roommate. They expect me to be somewhere private, which is probably what lead them to Texas, knowing I have retail property down there," he might of not found it the easiest way to live either. Neighbors were always so nosy, specially that cat lady. Always asked him questions, he always gave open answers. At least his roommate was learning better then to pry into Nathaniel's personal life. Like the big Victorian style trunk in his room with one hell of a lock on it. It was filled with all the things he needed for his job, plus a large amount of money in case he had to leave in a hurry and not leave a trail. Cash was always good at that, hell he paid his rent in cash as it was harder to track.

                                                            "Still, keep your head down. A few of their guys have been snooping around. Still can't believe you killed the boss Nathan. They have one hell of a price on your head, would make someone very rich."

                                                            "And if you weren't already rich and a total scumbag I am sure that gun would of been pressed against my temple a long time ago," Nathaniel noted, the man chuckled and gave a shrug of his shoulders. Finishing off the cup of coffee, Nathaniel stretched back and stood from his seat. "Well, I'll see ya around. Send me a job when you get the chance," he grabbed the suitcase. "And thanks for the shitty cup of coffee. Next time lets meet up at a bar or something, I could go for a glass of aged brandy."

                                                            The older man chuckled. "Your buying that round, right?"

                                                            "In your dreams, I'm low income now, remember?" but it was soon back to the apartment. A brief walk, if he recalled one of the young girls worked at the coffee shop he was just at, she was new to the building and the two didn't see much of each other. Opposing schedules it seemed. Still, he didn't want to be seen in the same place too many times. In case there were eyes in him, but he doubted they knew where he was. He was far off the radar by now. At least he hoped he was. He didn't want to keep on living like this. He missed luxuries he used to have available to him. Like a shower that worked at all times and didn't lose its warmth in only ten minutes. Nathaniel just pushed the thoughts aside. He would deal with it for now.

                                                            As he neared the apartments he could see the Christmas decorations going up. It reminded him that he had yet to get a gift for Constance. He would have to work on that, he didn't even know what she wanted this year. What would even be good for her, maybe just a nice necklace or something. He would figure it out. He said a hello to the owners as they were putting up the lights and moved up the stairs to his apartment. He had gotten used to sharing one at least he was good at keeping things hidden. He did keep the job hidden from his daughter, though he was sure she knew anyways. Constance was a smart girl after all.

                                                            Entering the apartment Nathaniel's eyes fell onto his roommate Damien. "Morning," he walked over to his room, it was makeshift walls that he had put up on his own in order to give Damien and himself a bit more privacy. The suitcase was kicked under the bed. He had to put that way, maybe it would be best to cal James. He could put everything away in one of his separate accounts, he would store some of the money here. He always did like to have cold hard cash ready for him. It was hard to trace cash after all.

                                                            Running a hand through his hair, Nathaniel moved back to the main living space the two men shared. "So. No lemonade for once, I'm surprised," Damien seemed oddly quiet at the moment. Usually he had something sharp to say. Kept Nathaniel on his toes and ready for quips to go back against Damien. At least it was purely friendly towards each other. Unlike the first couple months of them living together, before the walls went up. Nathaniel was a bit offensive with the lack of privacy and for the fact he had to act low income. He missed the tailored suits now.

                                                            "Oh, the guy who gave me a job might have something else open. A painting job, some old rich lady wants her house repainted. Could be a job for a few hands and she would pay well, if you are interested. Its going to be heavy lifting and dealing with an old lady telling us we are painting wrong," but it was work and if he knew Damien he was in need of a job along with a couple others in the building. Nathaniel was fine with passing down those jobs, it generally meant he would be dealing with something else at the same time. Though he just got himself a rather nice payday. He could go out and do some shopping, get that Christmas present for Constance.

                                                            "I am going to assume job hunting was on your agenda today, right?"

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Tevye Donnowitz


                                          The worst part about the weather getting colder was, with all the windows in the boarding house closed, people could tell when Tevye was smoking inside easier. At least everyone usually got out of his way when he went outside with a scowl and a cigarette.

                                          Perched on a garbage bin behind the boarding house, Tevye tried to ignore the Christmas decorations going up. But his only other option was to worry about the bugs crawling up his arms.Scratching didn't help. And he'd torn his room apart this morning and hadn't found anything.

                                          Maybe focusing on how much he hated Christmas would help. Maybe thinking about how much he wanted to scream if he heard another horrible cover of White Christmas would make the damned itching stop. Maybe thinking about how if he never saw another store full of ugly fake trees it would be too soon would make him stop wanting to peel all his skin off.

                                          This wasn't helping.

                                          Cigarette in his mouth, Tevye wiggled one arm out of the sleeve of his hoodie and frowned at it. He did not remember those welts when he'd dressed earlier. Maybe they'd been there. Maybe they weren't really there. It was hard to tell.

                                          Tevye sighed and exhaled, breathing out smoke. At least the cigarettes were doing their job. All the voices in his head were just radio static white noise now. He could deal with that.

                                          He could deal with the voices easier than going through the Christmas festivities back to his room.

                                          He contemplated staying out for another cigarette, or five, but it was really too cold for that. So he slid off the trash can, dropped the filter in it, and, hunching his shoulders, went back around into the house, one hand deep in the pocket of his hoodie, the other digging at his arm through the sleeve.

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                                                  Temperance June Donahuexx
                                                  tab I WANNA LIVE LIFE NEVER BE CRUEL I WANNA LIVE LIFE BE GOOD TO YOU
                                                  tab I WANNA FLY NEVER COME DOWN AND LIVE MY LIFE AND HAVE FRIENDS AROUND

                                                        She was half tempted to stay in bed today. Last night had gone horribly. She had gotten off of work and had a chance to show her stuff at a local bar. The owners wanted to see if she was good enough to play live one night. It was a local dive bar, nothing big, it had a small stage and they had live shows many times a week. The owners however said she didn't have it. They didn't like her sound, didn't like how she sang, what she sang about. It was a bit crushing. She pulled the blanket over herself and shoved her face into the pillow. She really didn't want to leave the bed today. She would much rather stay curled up in a ball and keep to herself. This place as getting closer and closer to crushing her dreams it seemed.

                                                        Still, she had to make her folks proud. They had been against her moving to New York, they said it would of been better to move to Madison or Milwaukee. A bigger city, but still in Wisconsin. They would of even been happy if she moved to Chicago. New York just gave her a bigger chance and not like she moved to LA or anything like that. She wasn't that far from home. It was days like this she did miss home, she missed Marshal. That horse always seemed to make her feel better. They could go down the trails and just ride for hours and she didn't have a care in the world. He also never complained about her singing.

                                                        Her alarm went off and Temperance groaned reaching a hand out to grab the phone that was on the nightstand. She flicked the alarm off and laid in bed for a few more moments. She did have to work today, she had the closing shift. At least she could bring home the extra baked goods tonight, be a good breakfast for the apartment tomorrow. Day old muffins never hurt anyone. She dragged herself out of bed and walked over to the dresser and quickly changed. A pair of dark jeans, a nice blouse, and a cream colored vest that stood out from the darker color of the blouse. At least her work didn't have a uniform, they just had to dress nicely, they couldn't look like a bum at the very least. She pulled her hair back into a messy bun and applied some light make up.

                                                        She looked over at the acoustic guitar sitting on its stand near the window. It was old, she got it from her grandfather before he passed away. She loved the think though, it always sounded good. It had doodles in sharpie across it. Most of them done by friends before she left for New York. They wanted to make sure she remembered by them. It was worth a lot to her, might of not been physical worth a lot of money. She still treasured it though. A little practice before work wouldn't hurt. Walked over to the guitar she grabbed it and heading out of her room in the complex.

                                                        Christmas music was doting the halls as people set up for the festive holiday. She felt a tinge of homesickness in her stomach. It would be her first Christmas away from home. There was no way she could afford a ticket back for the holidays. She missed her parents and the farm, but she had to grow up at some point. Besides, her mom called her daily to make sure she was coping alright. Saying she could come home at any moment, her parents would help pay her way home. Temperance didn't want that, she was happy, or at least was mostly happy. There were the days that getting out of bed was rather tough. Still, she would truck through it. She had to.

                                                        At least this place with would be festive, hopefully she wouldn't be so homesick. Her parents did say they were sending her a care package and from the sounds of it a rather big one. They also were sending Christmas cookies for her to share with her neighbors, she would set them in the community kitchen, her mother, aunt, and grandmother went a little crazy with the baking this year. The cookie package would include all sorts of baked goods. Including her grandmothers infamously addictive fudge. Temperance was curious if the package arrived today. She turned and made a b-line to the lobby and there is was the box was large for a package of cookies. Temperance shook her head and sighed.

                                                        She used the strap of the guitar and slung it over her back and grabbed the cardboard box. Moving to the kitchen she nearly ran into Tevye. A man she had only ran into a few times.

                                                        "Ahh, sorry. Just trying to get to the kitchen. Oh! Right, my mom sent me baked goods. If you want some you can get first picks. My grandmothers fudge is in here as well, its amazing. She won awards at a couple faires, if you want to try some," the key was to be friendly. Temperance was doing her best to be on the good side of most of her neighbors. She didn't want to have anyone hate her, though that was always easier said then done. Temperance adjusted her hold on the box and smiled at the blonde haired man.

                                                        "So down for pigging out on some sweets? Bound to cure a bad day."

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Tevye Donnowitz


                                          Tevye flinched away from the dark haired girl. He was not, honestly, sure what her name was. A T noun. Tempest? No. That wasn't it. He scratched his arm, wishing he'd had another cigarette.

                                          She was talking to him, all smiles, about her box of cookies.

                                          She didn't seem like a spy, which meant she probably was one.

                                          Not Tempest. It was one of those Christian virtue names. Like Charity. Tranquility? No, that wasn't it either.

                                          "So down for pigging out on some sweets? Bound to cure a bad day."

                                          Temperance. Her name was Temperance.

                                          Goyim were a trip.

                                          Temperance was still giving him a big, sincere smile, so he had to tell her something, as much as he just wanted to leave.

                                          "No. Thanks. I don't know if they're kosher." Cookies and things were usually pretty safe, but he still wasn't going to risk it. "Also, they're poisoned." He smiled back at her, and continued on to the stairs. Now she knew he knew that she was a spy. Hopefully that would stop an future conversations.

Anxious Prophet

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xxxxxF É N Y É V tab T Á V O L S Á G
xxxxxxxxxxx (CSAK HALLGATOM tab CSAK BÁMULOM)

xxxxxZ E N G Ő tab F É N Y O R S Z Á G
xxxxxxxxxxx (HOGY LÁSS CSODÁT tab EGY ÉLETEN ÁT)


LOCATION: THE STAIRS tab WITH: TEVYE, TEMPERANCE tab MOOD: FULL OF HOLIDAY CHEER

                              There was a comfortable, companionable sort of bustle about the holidays that Zorán had always found enjoyable – particularly when it came to communal living, wherein people from all sorts of backgrounds and traditions could share a part of themselves that was generally fairly intimate. Growing up, his family had always made much of Christmas, so he was understandably excited as the owners of the boarding house where he lived began to put up decorations. He offered help where he could, stayed out of the way when it was needed, and generally just basked in the warm Christmas spirit. At the moment, his help wasn't required, so he was in his room – the smallest one on the floor, formerly a storage area. Because of this, the rent wasn't too steep, which Zorán appreciated, being that he didn't currently have a stable form of income. He took on odd jobs for people in the house or the community, often relying on the aid of others in a similar situation to tell him about jobs they'd heard about. He liked most of his housemates, though he was wary of a small handful, including one on his floor.

                              For the most part, nobody bothered him about things he'd rather not talk about. They knew he was from Hungary, and that he had been living in the States for the past eight years, but that was generally all. Of course, if the topic wasn't his background, Zorán was more willing to chat with nearly anyone about nearly anything. The young woman on the floor below his, Temperance, was a sweetheart, and the other two men on his floor, Ace and Damian, were interesting to say the least. And then there was Tevye, who also lived below him and was…well, he was different. Most people would probably call him crazy, but Zorán wasn't the type to attach such stigma to others. Besides, he often did jobs for Tevye, mostly in the form of delivering his groceries or running other errands, since the man didn't really like to leave the building. He didn't mind it at all: Tevye seemed to trust him more than he trusted others, and that inspired a certain sort of pride in him.

                              With a soft sigh, Zorán decided he'd had enough of just sitting alone on his bed, and decided to go downstairs to see if there was anyone about. About partway down, he came across – who else? – Tevye himself, along with Temperance. He smiled and offered a slight wave to both.

                              "Hello, Mr. Donnowitz. Temperance." He pronounced both names cautiously: even after eight years of living in America, his speech was still heavily accented, and he often had difficulty pronouncing names, especially if they were long or uncommon. He'd slowly become less and less self-conscious about it over the years. "How are you?"
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                                                The basement wasn't the ideal place for someone to call home. It was dark, dingy, cold, and had a surplus of strange people coming and going at all hours in order to do their laundry. The dark he didn't mind. It helped him sleep. The dingy was fine. Filth could be cleaned and he was doing fairly well at scraping away years of gunk and dust and rodent debri. The cold was welcome. At least he wasn't stuck outside as he had been for the past several years. It was like a little reminder that things could be worse. The people bothered him considerably. He liked his peace, his privacy. He didn't like having to be on his toes at all hours because someone may or may not decide it was time to wash their crusty panties. But a room was a room. He would have to make due with what he had -- and he did pretty well, he thought. He attempted friendly conversation with those who ventured down to his dungeon, figured it wouldn't hurt to be civil, but the conversations tended to be a little one-sided and even more awkward, making him feel more like an outcasted troll than a person. That was fine, too. It had to be.

                                                "C'mon you foreign piece of s**t... work with me... c'mon... there. That should do it." Max popped up from his hiding place behind the dryer and sauntered out in front of it. The damned thing had stopped working days ago and no matter what he did or how well he followed the torn pages of the (non-English version) manual, nothing was working. Today it would though. He felt it. "Drum roll, please." He smirked softly to himself then twisted a couple knobs and pressed down on the start button then eagerly awaited that all too familiar groan as the machine came to life. But there was nothing. His smile faded. His brow furrowed. "You're kidding me... you're ********... Piece of--" He kicked the machine as hard as he could and it sputtered to life, softly at first then back to its regular grisly hum. A scoff left him and he stared down at the machine dumbfounded. But a victory was a victory and he would take what he could get. It was time to celebrate.

                                                Maximilian grunted and tightened the band that encompassed his leg; it sat just inches above his left ankle, cutting off any blood supply to that limb in order to make the veins there inflate to incredible heights. He needed to see them, to know that they were there and still usable. As the vein on the inside of his ankle began to rise, he anxiously ran the tip of his index finger along it and every so often pushed against it. The vein grew larger, its pale blue popping against the rest of his foot. He pressed his finger against the area once more before giving himself a small, reassuring nod. Beautiful. It was good and ready now. He shifted and passed a wary, wide-eyed glance to the needle sitting on the floor beside him. Its silver tip glimmered in the light, taunting and seducing him with its charm –calling for him to pick it up.

                                                Max licked his bottom lip and finally looked away, his eyes sweeping across the dingy landscape that he now called home. Once upon a time, he had been living in luxury with more money than he knew what to do with. He could do whatever the hell he wanted, he could be whoever the hell he wanted. The world was his for the taking. How long ago was it? Years. Too many. Time was difficult to keep track of. Either way, those times were long gone. His family couldn’t cope with his behavior anymore. They were tired of bailing him out of jail, of slapping him awake and dragging him to the hospital when he ODed. They were tired of paying for trashed hotel rooms and watching their nice things disappear whenever he came around. They were just plain tired.

                                                [******** ‘em…” He muttered dully and shifted his body against the floor below. His left foot was numb and he carefully let the leg splay out so that the inside of his ankle was more accessible. The area was throbbing now, almost painfully so, and the color had flushed dramatically. What an idiot he was for waiting so long! His fingers curled around the syringe and he drew it close while the other hand took up another alcohol swab to wipe down the needle and then his skin for a second time. The breath that escaped his lips was loud and quivering, coming just as quickly as the rampant beating of his heart. The beak of the needle touched his skin and a shudder shook his body. Max bit into his bottom lip and stifled a breath as he poked the needle through his skin. It stung. It always did. But in a good way. Eyes watering slightly, he gave the syringe a small suction and watched as a small portion of his blood was pulled in with the drug. It was in. He had hit the vein successfully.

                                                A ghost of a smile crept over his lips and he slowly injected the heroin into his vein.

                                                Everything that had been eating at him, all of the stress and all of the guilt that he had been carrying around, suddenly lifted and he was left with only a strong sense of euphoria. The corners of his mouth twitched into a subtle grimace and then swiveled into a grin and his entire body slouched back against the wall with a quiet thud. This feeling, as brilliant as it was, only lasted for a few minutes and soon gave way to a feeling of heaviness, as if his entire body had melted into itself. This was just as pleasant a feeling as the euphoria so long as he kept himself calm and no outside forces broke into the invisible bubble that he had created for himself. Bit by bit he found himself struggling to keep his attention focused and, bit-by-bit, he found himself burrowing deeper within himself until it was impossible to keep his eyes open.

                                                He struggled for several minutes before finally giving in to the urge and allowing his eyes to close, but, much to his dismay, the peace was short-lived. After what felt like only a couple of seconds (it was most likely much longer than that but concept of time becomes a hard thing to hold onto), there came a series of loud thump and he was forced to open his eyes once more. Max blinked several times, his brow knitted and nose wrinkled in blatant confusion. The ******** was that? ”Loud ********] He growled, his irritation etched into his face, and then shifted away from the wall. Quivering hands extended forward and then returned a discarded shoe back to its place on his foot without its partnered sock. After that, he carefully maneuvered back to his feet, using the wall beside him as a crutch.

                                                He managed to get himself across the small room with little trouble. The old wooden stairs were a daunting task. His own personal Everest. Step by step, he slunk up. The stairs groaned under him. One day, he knew, they'd give out from under him. He'd probably break his stupid neck and die. But today was not that day it seemed. He made it to the top without incident and pushed the door open, careful not to shove it so hard that it dented the wall behind it. It'd just be another thing on his already long list of things to do.

                                                He meant to make a clean break for the kitchen, maybe make himself a sandwich to enjoy before setting off on his next adventure, but nearby voices brought him to a halt. Max stood there for several seconds, his mind locked in a heated debate on what to do. Part of him wanted to simply retreat back into his dungeon. His stomach protested. A small sigh escaped him and he moved towards the voices, careful not to make too much noise or bring much attention to himself. The voices belonged to two other occupants. He eyed them thoughtfully, struggling to come up with names. "Hey." Ah, ********. Now what? "The dryer is fixed is any of ya got laundry to do. Sorry it took so long." He flashed a small, anxious smile then quickly disappeared into the kitchen.

Quinsareth's Husband

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                                                  Temperance June Donahuexx
                                                  tab I WANNA LIVE LIFE NEVER BE CRUEL I WANNA LIVE LIFE BE GOOD TO YOU
                                                  tab I WANNA FLY NEVER COME DOWN AND LIVE MY LIFE AND HAVE FRIENDS AROUND

                                                        Temperance sighed towards Tevye, not surprised by his actions. As much as she tried to be nice, civil, and a general good around neighbor to the man. He always seemed to think the world was out to get him, her included into that. She pressed her lips together in a firm line and shook her head.

                                                        "Kosher or not, at the very least they aren't poisoned. Why would I eat them then?" she asked with a tilt of her head. Tevye was already heading up the stairs, Temperance had lost another battle with that man. Though she wouldn't give up on at least a conversation going past him just making excuses to get away, or saying her Grandmother's fudge of poisoned.

                                                        She turned her head as she heard another voice. Zorán, the man's accent was a bit hard to understand at times and he seemed to struggle with the English language and some of the people names. But he was friendly and a friendly face way always nice to see. The bright smile returned to Temperance's face. "Good morning Zorán, I'm doing good. Got a care package from home. Should have Christmas cookies and my Grandmother's fudge. You want some, she's won awards for it. Its pretty darn good and if I know her. She put my favorite in here as well. Dark chocolate with sea salt and raspberry."

                                                        Another one of the tenants made his appearance. Max, the man stayed in the basement and helped keep the building in decent functionality. The buildings so called handyman. He left that bad feeling in Temperance's stomach at times. Something was off about it, made her feel uneasy. Still, she did her best not to show it. Rather smiled at him. It was good to hear the dryer was working again. She was getting used to hanging things up to dry in her room, but it made things more cluttered.

                                                        "That's good to hear, I thought we would have to keep letting things air dry forever. Thank you, oh, I have some goodies from home if you would like to try any. I'm just going to take my fill and leave the rest in the kitchen for you guys to snag. If you aren't big on sweets, I think there might be some venison jerky in here. Mom said dad caught a couple decent sized bucks while hunting this year. So they have a lot of venison just itching to be used...one of the things I miss about being at home I suppose..." Temperance stopped midway. She was about to go on a rant wasn't she. Letting out an uneasy chuckle, she managed to free a hand to sheepishly rub the back of her neck

                                                        "But, excuse my ranting. Just figure it would be nice for you to get some of the first picks. As you do help keep this place function. A nice bag of jerky seems like fair repayment. As well, I do use the dryer a lot...." no thanks to the vast amount of clothes she had. As much as she wanted to fight it, Temperance was a lover of fashion. An expensive love, but she managed it. At least while she was back home, it was harder to do now that she was living on her own. She had to budget herself and that was no easy task.

                                                        "So yeah...I'm going to set this stuff down. Free to dig in once I get them set up."

Distinct Codger

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Tevye Donnowitz

                                          Tevye flatted against the wall as Zorán came down the stairs. "Zorán. Hi," he said. He liked Zorán, but this was too many people for him to deal with. And when Max came up into the kitchen, he fled up to his room. Temperance was tiring. Max made his skin crawl.

                                          He'd almost forgotten how is room was torn apart.Tevye frowned at the blankets and books strewn across the floor, his mattress shoved in the corner opposite the bed frame, his desk and dresser pulled away from the wall. He couldn't believe there weren't any bugs at all.

                                          Maybe it was a skin disease.

                                          Maybe this was how they were getting to him. Covering all of his sheets and clothes with a powder or something that made him itch.

                                          He could go take a shower and wash it off. Do some laundry. Only they'd be expecting that, wouldn't they? The showers would have it in the water. So would the washing machine.

                                          Tevye whimpered and melted to the floor. His arms still itched, but he was too scared to keep scratching. What if that would make his skin fall off?

                                          Something scratched at the window. Tevye jumped, losing his balance and reaching for the baseball bat under his bed on instinct (he had never played, but nobody thought anything of a kid from Boston owning a bat), before realizing it was only Socks in the window. The one eyed tom cat glared at him.

                                          "Oh. Hi," Tevye said, regaining his feet and going to the window. They were not, technically, allowed pets, but then, Socks was not technically a pet.Socks slid in under his open arm and curled up on a pile of clothes. Tevye frowned and sat next to him, waiting for the cat to wake up and start scratching.

                                          He didn't.

                                          Maybe it didn't work on cats.

                                          Maybe there wasn't anything there.

                                          Tevye reached out and stroked Socks' back. The ginger tabby purred, and Tevye smiled. People were hard. Cats were easy. They were definitely plotting something, but they were honest about it, so Tevye didn't mind. Laying on the floor, Tevye ignored the mess and focused on the cat.

                                          If Socks wasn't itchy, he shouldn't be either.

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