.*╯S⇣SAMPLES

[ugh pls]

these are my role play samples.
don't post here or steal my layouts --
i either paid for them or made them
myself, and they're pretty shitty if i
made them, so idek why you'd want
to steal them in the first place. kthx.

i consider myself adv. lit, but you can
usually find me in lazy lit. rps during
the school year -- i like to play dudes
a lot and i do my best to mirror what
i am given to reply to, which might
explain some length variations.

p.s. my word counts don't include
any ooc chatter or coding, obvs.

t.w. this page contains gifs

p.p.s. samples go from oldest to
newest; i'm tryin'a keep this thread
up to date if i can

old sample thread && schedule

[ugh pls]

introduction post - lazy lit - group
word count: 953

　　　
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　　　　LAST CALL FOR SIN 　　 WHEN EVERYTHING'S LOST　　 THE BATTLE IS WON 　　 WITH ALL THESE THINGS THAT I'VE DONE
　　　　LAST CALL FOR SIN 　　 WHEN EVERYTHING'S LOST　　 THE BATTLE IS WON 　　 WITH ALL THESE THINGS THAT I'VE DONE


A dull throbbing in the back of his head made Ryan groan as he rolled onto his side, straining to see what time it was. The clock on the side table read around four in the afternoon. He groaned. Work was only a few hours away, and he still wasn't fully awake yet. Heaving himself into a sitting position, the half naked dancer looked around his loft, a frown settling on his stubbled lips. Vaguely, he remembered leading a nameless blonde woman into his 'bachelor pad' at some ridiculous hour, but she was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps it was better that way; Ryan wasn't much of a relationship man himself, he just preferred nor ro spend the night alone. It wasn't even about the ex, really. Some nights it was mind blowing, the others simply so-so, but regardless, it allowed him to exhaust himself enough physically that the nightmares didn't creep into his deep, dreamless state of bliss. It was a blessing in some ways. Pulling himself from the bed, Ryan walked over to the small table that served as his 'breakfast area' - a wooden table with two chairs next to the stove and counter - and found a napkin with a pen resting on the table.

Thanks for the great time -- call me.
xxxxx Mira - 555-6783

Beside her number she'd left a smudge of her lipstick, a typical token of affection from the ladies he escorted back to his place. He tucked it into a small set of drawers on the counter along with several other numbers he'd stashed away from his numerous escapades and headed for the shower. If there was one thing he hated, it was going to work with the scent of the night before on his skin, particularly if it involved taking a customer home, something that he knew the big man wasn't terribly fond of for whatever reason, but it was how Ryan made his living. He stepped under the hot spray and allowed his joints to pop and muscles to strain, relaxing himself before the long night that was ahead. He loved his job, sure, but some nights he almost wanted to be 'normal' -- well, before he remembered what had happened last time he'd lived that life. Bullets. Blood. War. He shuddered and toweled himself off. Too much to think about and not nearly enough time to play personal therapist tonight. He had to get ready for work.

About fifteen minutes after the shower had ended, he was dressed in his typical white tee shirt and a pair of tight fitting jeans, ready to take on the world. His neighbors probably hated him for being such a night owl, he came and went at the strangest of hours, today, for example, he was leaving around five to make his commute to work and snag some food on the way. He would return around three, he assumed, that was if he stayed and drank with a few of the other dancers. If not, then maybe he'd get home at a reasonable hour and would be able to live like a normal person tomorrow. The very thought made him laugh. Yeah, right, you normal. That's a gas, Ryan.

His apartment was only about five minutes from the strip club six blocks away if he had to hurry. Typically, he took around ten to fifteen, but tonight, he stopped at the starbucks two blocks down to get a bagel and a cup of coffee. He couldn't be dancing on an empty stomach now, could he? Once finished, he made his way into the club where the girls were going crazy, laughing and practicing, a sight he always loved to see. If he had one single rule to live by, it was to not only respect the ladies who worked so hard here. Yeah, flirt all he wanted, oogle Audrey a little, tease the ever-shy Allison, but under no circumstances did he ever permit himself to do anything more than joke around with the ladies. They were his colleagues, his friends, and above all else, the only real family that he had around this place.

"Evenin' ladies and gents," proclaimed the blonde dancer as he sauntered into the room, his coffee cup in hand. The energy in the room was palpable and, in spite of Ryan's attempts to keep a cool composure, he could feel himself becoming more and more excited as he wandered into the room. Odette lounged with Foster. Audrey was doing her routine for Giovanni and a few of the other girls looked on mildly interested while they chattered away. He scanned the room before his gaze landed on Allison, one of his favorites to tease. The shy and ever so innocent young woman was the easiest to mock and make blush. He would have to endulge in a little bit of teasing once he was finished getting ready.

His costume wasn't exactly elaborate. He looked more like a chippendale boy than anything else tonight; a bow tie hanging about his neck, cuffs around his wrists, and a pair of tight fitting black pants that clung tightly around his a**. He could've sworn the things were leather the first time he war them, crushing him on almost every front, but at this point in his life, he wore them like a second skin. Without much else to do, he wandered back out into the main room where the girls and guys were chattering away. He flopped into a chair next to Allison and flashed her a smile.

"Hey there, beautiful," he said, turning on the charm. "Are you ready for one fun filled night?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows at her suggestively.

O.O.C. wearing this, yo.

[ugh pls]

reply post - lazy lit - group
word count: 758

　　　
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━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━
　　　　LAST CALL FOR SIN 　　 WHEN EVERYTHING'S LOST　　 THE BATTLE IS WON 　　 WITH ALL THESE THINGS THAT I'VE DONE
　　　　LAST CALL FOR SIN 　　 WHEN EVERYTHING'S LOST　　 THE BATTLE IS WON 　　 WITH ALL THESE THINGS THAT I'VE DONE


A satisfied smile sprouted up on Ryan's lips at the slight pinkish red color that began spreading at the top of Allison's ears. He couldn't help but relentlessly tease the redhead. She was the baby of the group, the innocent one, the 'virgin' as he sometimes referred to her, and to say she was one of his favorites would be putting it lightly. The girl sure as hell had a sense of humor to boot, and when he plopped down beside her, he had no idea what would be coming out. The little virgin, with her red hair and freckles, had hopped up, tied her shirt, and put on a theatric little show, dramatic voice included. Ryan had to stifle a laugh as he allowed his gaze to graze over the young woman's exposed skin. He couldn't help himself if he was going to be entirely honest, there was just some sort of power held over him when it came to women.

Blinking back to reality, he flashed her a coy smile. "No one would be able to resist you, my dear," he replied, his eyes fixated momentarily at her jutting bottom before he permitted his gaze to move back upward. "Even I can assure you of that, and I've seen almost everything."

He watched her dance away with a soft laugh and turned his attention to the ever delicate Juliette. He couldn't stop his breath from catching in his throat for a second. There could have been a hundred reasons as to why he tended to avoid Juliette on nights like these, but the one he was most ashamed of was himself. The young ladies who made their living dancing, just as he did, were supposed to be family to him, not women to fantasize about when alone, but somehow Juliette had managed to slip past the very prominent barrier he put between himself and most of the young women he worked with. He considered himself a professional, able to surround himself with dozens of half naked dancing women without breaking a sweat, but the foreign beauty continuously proved that he was wrong about that assumption. Particularly at this moment. She sat in front of him donning nothing more than black lace and a pair of stiletto heels. A thousand different scenarios raced through his head in the thirty seconds it took for him to allow his eyes to slowly run over her figure. How unfair it was, and the way she was sitting only added to it. He forced himself to sit up a bit and cleared his throat, bringing his attention back to the young woman sitting across from him.

"Bonjour, mon amor," he replied with a simple smile. "You look ravishing tonight, as always."

Clearing the husky edge from his voice, Ryan momentarily busied himself with adjusting the bow tie around his neck. He glanced around the room, nodding to a few of the people he made eye contact with before he allowed his attention to return to Juliette once more. "I'm doing wonderfully," he admitted with a chuckle, looking around. "How can I not be, we work at the happiest place on earth." Ryan gestured around the room, his arms wide open as he surveyed the area once more. It truly did seem like the disney world of strippers or something. Girls and guys alike were happy to be there. The dancers themselves and the customers, each of them came in and went out with a smile on his or her face happy to be pleased or pleasing others. It was a wonderful place to work, and he was happy to be there on nights like these.

He stood and walked across the room, slipping into a seat beside her and giving another one of his winning smiles. The very act of sitting close to the young woman would have to be enough for him tonight, because he wasn't going to torment himself further with watching her dance, he was sure of that. It simply wouldn't be fair, and knowing himself, he'd probably end up getting aroused or drunk and wandering home with yet another strange woman. It was just how the cycle went for him at this point in his life, but he didn't want to involve Juliette in that in any way, shape, or form. The lovely brunette was far too kind to him and much too adoring to be dragged down by his mess of a lifestyle.

"And what about you, mon cherie?" he wondered. "How is life treating you?"

O.O.C. IM SO EXCITED MAN

[ugh pls]

reply post - one on one
word count: 703

AND I CAN'T SEE YOU HERE WONDERIN' WHERE I AM 　　　 SORTA FEELS LIKE I'M RUNNING OUT OF TIME 　　　 I HAVEN'T FOUND WHAT I WAS HOPING TO FIND
AND I CAN'T SEE YOU HERE WONDERIN' WHERE I AM 　　　 SORTA FEELS LIKE I'M RUNNING OUT OF TIME 　　　 I HAVEN'T FOUND WHAT I WAS HOPING TO FIND
AND I CAN'T SEE YOU HERE WONDERIN' WHERE I AM 　　　 SORTA FEELS LIKE I'M RUNNING OUT OF TIME 　　　 I HAVEN'T FOUND WHAT I WAS HOPING TO FIND

Leaning against the wooden stand on which the cash register at, I run a hand through my scruffy beard and groan. The amount of time currently standing between me and my break is only about five minutes, but for some reason, it feels like an eternity today. Probably because my shift is nearing it's end and of course, it's Thursday. Thursdays are Maya's favorite, it's the one day of the week that my closest friend Natalie picks her up from school and watches her until I can get home and we order Chinese takeout as a form of payment to Nat. Some weeks, I even let Maya stay up and watch a movie past her bed time if she manages to distract me enough that I lose track of time. Just thinking about the upcoming events of the night brings a smile to my lips.

"Excuse me," an elderly woman's voice startles me from my thoughts. I flash her a smile and stand up straight, attending to the woman's needs. "Could you show me where to find the spirituality section?" she asks with a kind smile. I give her a nod and rattle off a few directions before resolving that showing her will be the easiest way of getting her there.

"Come with me." I say, walking out from behind the counter and leading her through the rows and rows of bookshelves. Weaving in and out of the sections, I round a corner and head to the back section of the store where we stored a collection of various bibles, qurans, and other sorts of thick, leather bound texts that instructed worshiping. I thumb past a few volumes, my eyes running over the spines before settling upon the title that the woman had informed me she was looking for on the walk over. "Here we are," I declare, placing the book in the woman's trembling hands as I was of course trained to do. Don't just show them the book, take them to it, place it in their hands, ask them if there was anything else they needed. I went through the motions, tending to the customer. When she asked for a few moments to look through the book on her own, I wander back to the register and check the clock once more. Three thirty. A knot in my stomach that I didn't know existed relaxed as I reach for the phone, paging a manager. "I'm heading off on my half, Theo," I say into the receiver before putting the phone down.

Coffee. My direct instinct is to go for the caffeine, particularly if I'm going to be up late with Natalie and Maya. A quick pit stop in the break room to fish my wallet from the pocket of my coat later and I'm making my way over to the cafe, fishing out a couple of bucks from my wallet.

Raising my gaze, my eyes meet those of the fiery haired barista, Charlotte. I'd be lying if I said my gaze didn't linger a few seconds longer than they should of, an instinctive smile blooming on my lips as I casually stroll over. That red head sure is something to look at, I'll give her that. Her hair, almost vibrantly orange, tumbles over her shoulders and down her back, and the smile she gives me as I draw closer could've knocked me off my feet right there and then. She was a sight for sore eyes, sure enough, but I know better than anyone that any hopes of agreeing to a date with her are severely hindered by Maya. She doesn't even know I have a kid; how the hell do you tell someone you can't go out tonight because you're too busy being a dad? Up until now I'd simply told her any plans would need a rain check, but time was passing quickly, and my chances were becoming slimmer and slimmer with every rejection.

Stepping up to the bar, I flash a smile at the red head. "Afternoon, simba." I tease. There's always been a good deal of joking between the pair of us. "Can I get a doppio?" I ask. "I have to get through story time later."

[ugh pls]

reply post - one on one
word count: 1090

AND I CAN'T SEE YOU HERE WONDERIN' WHERE I AM 　　　 SORTA FEELS LIKE I'M RUNNING OUT OF TIME 　　　 I HAVEN'T FOUND WHAT I WAS HOPING TO FIND
AND I CAN'T SEE YOU HERE WONDERIN' WHERE I AM 　　　 SORTA FEELS LIKE I'M RUNNING OUT OF TIME 　　　 I HAVEN'T FOUND WHAT I WAS HOPING TO FIND
AND I CAN'T SEE YOU HERE WONDERIN' WHERE I AM 　　　 SORTA FEELS LIKE I'M RUNNING OUT OF TIME 　　　 I HAVEN'T FOUND WHAT I WAS HOPING TO FIND

I can't get the memory of her expression out of my mind, no matter how hard I try. I thought she might be able to understand it, to grasp the gravity of what I was telling her. Why I hadn't been able to see her, why I was so careful to avoid her dates and why, of course, my schedule was so time constrained. And she did, she does, I guess. That must've been what made her stop, frozen like a deer in headlights, eyes wide as saucers. I can't say I'm surprised by her reaction; I'd seen it plenty of times before, but the disappointment is still there, forming a pit at the bottom of my stomach, sitting there and festering as a physical manifestation of my disappointment. I shouldn't have expected anything more from her, I don't now, but at that point, I had hoped, I guess. She'd seemed perfect at first, but hell, I can be wrong sometimes to. I'm wrong more often than I like to be these days. But that's not what gets to me. No; it's the look on her face that has seared itself into my memory. Wide eyes; fear.

I cast a glance at the child curled up beside me, her long, brown hair draped over my lap and head propped against a pillow that rests on my thigh, and I wonder for the hundredth time what could be so fearsome about something so innocent. Across the room, Natalie watches me as I run my fingers through the long locks of the sleeping child's hair. Her open box of noodles idles in her lap, wedged between her cris-crossed legs. Her stare is too intense for me to meet, so I keep my own fixated on Maya, the light of my life, the only thing I can ever count on to be there the remainder of my life. My everything. My daughter.

"Stop. Stop pouting," Natalie finally says, narrowing her eyes at me from across the coffee table. "You're moping over some girl. It's pathetic."

I can't stop myself from rolling my eyes at her. I know she hates it, but her observation is irritating. She shouldn't be allowed to talk about brooding over relationships; she is the queen of one night stands that never seem to end the way she wants. Of course I'll never say that to her face, but hell, it's the truth, and the truth hurts. I figured that one out a long time ago.

"I'm not pouting," I grunt.

She narrows those cutting hazel eyes at me. I swear, the woman could kill with a single look. It's a wonder that a poor man hadn't dropped dead yet on her accord. "Yes, you are. Over that barista. Stop it." Her voice is sharp and her look is severe. "You should be worrying about Maya, not some insolent girl."

She has a point there, and as much as I hate to admit it, she's right. I'm being stupid, stupidly obsessive over the details that I can't change. There's no way to change a woman's mind over something as irreversible as a child. Maya isn't going anywhere, I'm more than determined to make sure of that, and if Charlotte can't deal with that, then well, that's her problem. I'm not going to bend over backwards for a girl who can't deal with the fact that I have a daughter, that much I'm sure of. I lean over and scoop up the child into my arms, carrying her to her room and leaving Natalie to her noodles. When I lay her down on the mattress, her eyelids flutter open for a moment and I stare, caught in her gaze. The smile that passes across her lips makes my stomach unclench.

"Night, daddy," she murmurs, half asleep. Her eyes flutter shut and she becomes still instantly.

I cross the room, stepping carefully over her scattered toys and games before pausing in the doorway, flicking off the lights and studying the silhouette of the young girl poised so innocently in the darkness. "Good night, baby girl," I murmur with a smile and leave her to her dreams.

- - - - -

By the time my next shift rolls around, I manage to convince myself that I am ready to face her. She isn't anything terrible, just an uncomfortable consequence, something I am destined to face. But still, in the end, it was Natalie who told me flat out that night I had tucked Maya in that I had to do what was best for me. I have to steer clear of her, do the best for my daughter not for myself, it is just the way it has to be. Things change, and one of those things will be the flirty relationship I had spent months building with her. Too bad, a loss, for sure, but one I had to be willing to take in order to accommodate Maya. How am I supposed to introduce another woman into her life? The last one she knew, her own mother, had walked straight out on the both of us. There's nothing more I can do but shelter her from what harm could possibly come her way. I was her father, and there wasn't a thing that I would let happen to her.

I don't know she is working until half way through my shift, when my feet grow sore and my head is too heavy. While I know I have hours to go before sleep is even a thought feasible to the mind, I know even better that my typical two shots of espresso will get me through the day. I've been toying with the idea of going to the coffee shop down the street on break for an Americano, but the ache in my feet and my near-empty tank of gas keep me from doing something stupid. Clocking out for my half, I wander over to the counter and, as I expected, she is there.

"Three shots," I say when I come up to the counter, not bothering much more than a nod 'hello' to her. Why should I bother? If she couldn't respect the fact that I had a kid, how could I expect her to understand me at all, to even want a friendship, let alone a relationship with someone like me. Instead, I stood in uncomfortable silence, nodding to the young man who turns on the humming espresso machine and fish my wallet from my pockets, drawing out money to pay for the steaming drink.

[ugh pls]

reply post - one on one
word count: 706

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　　　　LAST CALL FOR SIN 　　 WHEN EVERYTHING'S LOST　　 THE BATTLE IS WON 　　 WITH ALL THESE THINGS THAT I'VE DONE
　　　　LAST CALL FOR SIN 　　 WHEN EVERYTHING'S LOST　　 THE BATTLE IS WON 　　 WITH ALL THESE THINGS THAT I'VE DONE


Her refusal to take his hand made Apollo roll his eyes as he stood on the tracks, waiting for her. He was forced to stifle the laugh that built up in the back of his throat while he watched her shuffle on her knees to the edge of the crumbling cement and swing her tiny frame down from the platform and onto the tracks. Apollo idled for only a moment, allowing her to recover before wandering with her at his side down into the tunnel, where the darkness began to overtake them both. Giving a quiet cough, he began scrounging around through his pants pockets in order to find a light before it became too dark for him to make out his very had before his face. The sun was setting rapidly over Paris, and if they were unable to find Blanche, God only knew where the poor girl would end up by the time the meeting was over. In the thick silence that had settled between the pair, Apollo glanced at Aurelie, trying to put together in his head what he could have said that might have offended her. She had seemed to become quieter after his joking, but apparently she wasn’t too upset – she was still wearing his coat, after all, wasn’t she? Shrugging the thought, he figured it musn’t be anything of great importance if she was still willing to come along with him. The young woman was insistent as ever, and he knew all too well that he would never be able to advise her of following along. She was, after all, his right hand (wo)man, and there was no going on without her.

Of that much he was sure.

For a man who could bring men to their feet with a simple word or two, a rallying cry that would bring Les Amis to their feet, ready to put their lives on the line for the beloved Patria, his lack of words to express how he was feeling at that present moment was, indeed, surprising. He cast his gaze downward, unsure of what to say about what had happened a few moments ago. The lack of space between their bodies, the way his eyes had searched her face so earnestly for some sort of notion, some sort of hint of desire. Anything. He gave a rather audible huff and kicked at a piece of loose rubble on the tracks. He finally withdrew a small flashlight from his pocket, which seemed to hold an unnamed number of strange trinkets. With a flick of his thumb, he shone the light down the tracks. Just as the light flashed against the cool stone of the underground tunnel, he heard a cry from the young woman beside him.

"Combeferre--!"

In an instant, his reflexes had pushed him into a quick reaction. He was at her side in an instant, hoisting the girl from where she had fallen onto the tracks, his arm picking her slender frame from the rubble. "Are you hurt?" he demanded, lifting her and moving to one of the closed train cars that had been abandoned along with the subway system. He knew the tunnels well enough to know that Blanche couldn't be much farther if she was lost, the system went throughout most of Paris, but this particular one was used much less than the others. He managed to slide open the door of the car and placed her down onto the floor of the once functioning form of transportation. "Your leg?" Apollonaire cast his eyes downward, studying her ankles. Those heels seemed to be a death trap, and on tracks like these? He grunted in disapproval.

"I shouldn't have taken you along," he grumbled, growing frustrated with himself. "Now you're hurt, I should have known better."

The blonde ran his fingers through his hair, huffing. He brought his gaze back to her. "I'll go the rest of the way and seek out Blanche," Apollo declared. "The last thing I need is for you to be walking in these tunnels on stilts." he said, casting a glance down at her choice of foot ware. "You've already hurt yourself once, and I won't allow it to happen again."

[ugh pls]

introduction post - lazy lit - group
word count: 921

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YOU HAVE ALWAYS WORN YOUR FLAWS ON YOUR SLEEVE; XXX AND I HAVE ALWAYS BURIED THEM DEEP BENEATH THE GROUND XXX DIG THEM UP; LET'S FINISH WHAT WE STARTED XXX DIG THEM UP; SO NOTHING'S LEFT
YOU HAVE ALWAYS WORN YOUR FLAWS ON YOUR SLEEVE; XXX AND I HAVE ALWAYS BURIED THEM DEEP BENEATH THE GROUND XXX DIG THEM UP; LET'S FINISH WHAT WE STARTED XXX DIG THEM UP; SO NOTHING'S LEFT
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One would think that after weeks of being stuck with chores upon chores at the academy, Naomi would have been looking forward to classes to start and the steady flow of people that were filtering in through the gates of the school, and yet, she sat by the window with an unimpressed stare, watching the students like dozens of ants scurrying with their boxes and suitcases back to the campus. She sighed and rolled onto her stomach, curling up on the red sheets of her bed and shutting her eyes. If she was being honest with herself, she was dreading the start of classes. The first few days would all be the same, discussing what had happened over break, fawning over families and friends that they missed and wouldn't see until the next extended break came up again. All of it made Naomi sick, particularly because she had been feeling more homesick than usual these days. It wasn't that she missed her friends, if you could even call them that, or even her family, if they were even still alive. She missed Brooklyn, the city itself and the way life seemed to pulse through New York at all hours of the night. Lifting her head, she found her gaze settling upon the fading Polaroid snapshot of the new york skyline that a friend of hers had given as a parting gift before she headed to the middle of ******** nowhere, Alaska. With a grimace, she curled herself into a ball, pulling her sweater over her bare legs, and searched for her phone.

Naomi didn't necessarily dislike Alaska. She was grateful that the government had managed to swing her this gig, considering the alternative was rotting in a prison cell with a handful of drug addicts, a number of them whom she'd 'serviced' in order to make ends meet during the harder times. A shudder ran down her spine at the very thought, and as if on instinct the dark haired girl drew her legs closer to her chest. She did her best not to think about those days, but sometimes she didn't catch herself on time. Today was a particularly bad day. She'd hardly slept the night before. The insomnia was really taking it's toll; wearing her down in away she hadn't experienced in some time.

"Don't think about it," she grunted, rolling across the bed and wrapping her fingers gingerly around the item she'd been searching for. "You know that makes things worse."

A few flicks of her finger across the touch screen brought her to a list of contacts. Naomi allowed her eyes to glaze over while her body went on autopilot, going through the motions she knew all too well. Her mind had automatically calculated the number of flicks of her thumb it would take to reach the name of the person she had in mind. Humphrey. The weakest of smiles graced her lips as she typed out her message to him and hit send.

XXXTO: HUMPHREY
XXXXXXare you here yet, i'm bored.

Harassing Humphrey was probably her favorite activity. Well, one of them. It was a close tie between harassing Humphrey and playing league of legends with him. The very thought reminded Naomi of her recent questing with him. Excited, she leaned over the bed and reached for the laptop that was sleeping on the floor beside her. The spark of joy that had started a fire in the pit of her stomach was quickly stomped out with the reminder that she was still waiting for him to get here. The chances that he would have internet access anywhere in the god forsaken state was unlikely until he managed to get his a** here. She flopped onto the bed theatrically. "Ughn!" she cried, annoyed with the general atmosphere of the room she was brooding in.

XXXTO: HUMPHREY
XXXXXXhurry up, loser.

Her fingers flashed across her phone and sent the second text as if it was as necessary as breathing to her. With a smug smile, she got up and fished out some actual clothes, settling on a pair of jeans and a simple red tank top, discarding her sweater on the bed with the rest of her things. Cold as she might have been curled up on her bed, she knew that the weather around here was as indecisive as she was. The very thought made her chuckle. Deciding she was simply too bored to be bothered with moping for the rest of the morning, Naomi grabbed her keys and tucked her phone into her back pocket before wandering out into the hall, shutting the door behind her. She gave an uneasy nod to a few people that were moving onto her floor, some faces old, others new. As per usual, she averted her gaze and ducked down into the stairwell as soon as she was able. The idea of being around new people unsettled her. There were too many faces she might one day see twisted in agony, flinching away from her while she poured over their thoughts and darkest fears. "Don't think about it," she muttered again, making her way down the stairs and out into the courtyard where the warm sun beat down on the throngs of students new and old. In an attempt to get out of the way of the fresh meat that were wandering by, she settled herself down on a bench by the main gate, happy to be watching the world slowly pass her by while she waited, utterly relaxed.
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[ugh pls]

introduction post - lazy lit - group
word count: 818

xxxxxxxwhere: the ship xxxxxxx with: name xxxxxxx feeling: frustrated xxxxxxx journal: here

Never had she been so afraid for her life. Gripping onto the rail of the ship, she struggled to pull herself up from the slick deck and make her way across toward the mast, hoping she could brace herself against it. The water hadn't been this choppy in weeks, months even. She was sure that she hadn't seen the water this choppy since before she had woken up dead weeks ago. Narrowing her eyes, she managed to take a few slow steps, the boat shifting beneath her. She held her breath for a moment and dove for the mast. As soon as her feet left the deck, her body was pitched into the air and she found herself plummeting at full force through the air and into the waves. For a moment she attempted to draw in a breath, knowing she didn't need it but her body working on instinct. This time, the water caught in her lungs and began to suffocate her. Avery's eyes shot open. Something was drastically wrong. Her vision began to blur, her body became heavy, and at that moment, she realized she was still alive.

She woke in a cold sweat, gasping for the breath she would never catch.

Bringing her messy blonde hair out of her eyes with her fingers, Avery slowly allowed her current surrounding to wash over her. The room she was currently occupying, a small, shabby apartment that she was given in order to live out the rest of eternity. She was no longer drowning. No water forced her clothes to stick to her slender frame, no cuts and bruises from being tossed around the ship and crashing onto the deck. Ava took a trembling breath, slowly pushing herself up from the table where she'd fallen asleep. Her hand hit an empty bottle that rolled off the table and crashed to the floor, unbroken but enough to startle her out of her post-sleep haze. She really needed to stop drinking so much. It put her out cold, sure, but she kept sleeping well past when she should be heading to work.

s**t, she thought to herself, her eyes darting to the clock hanging on the wall. s**t, s**t, s**t!

Avery pushed back from the table and sent herself flying around the corner, skidding into her room and bursting through the doors of her closet. By the time her head caught up with her body, the room was spinning and she had to force herself to slow down a minute just to recover from her hangover. "Oh," she groaned, her stomach lurching to the point where she had to lean on the door frame for support. "Please, please, please don't throw up." she begged herself, closing her eyes and putting all of her energy toward keeping down the bile that was churning in her stomach. A few moments passed and she emitted a less than lady-like burp, her shoulders slumping in relief. "Oh, thank god." Ava focused her attention on the more important goal of the early afternoon: finding a pair of pants. She thrust her hands into the pile of laundry and dug out some simple jeans and a green tank top. After she managed to dress herself and rake a brush through her hair, the already late ferry captain tugged on her boots and made a mad dash for the docks, snatching her keys up off of the table in the process.

It took her about ten minutes to get to the docks, sprinting of course, and by the time she got there, her stomach was so upset that the poor girl was certain she would throw up whatever she had left in her at the moment. Thankfully, her incredible willpower and even more incredible ability to forget to eat breakfast left her stomach calm enough to settle itself with minimal effort. Her chest heaving, Avery made her way up onto the docks and pushed past a few people milling about preparing for departure. "We've been waitin' all mornin' for ya!" one of the older men called to her, an unhappy look upon his face. "I'm here, aren't I?" she hollered back, hoisting herself up onto the deck of the ship and preparing for departure. A few of her mates shuffled by, and she made her way onto the main deck. Roughly fifteen minutes later they had managed to shove off, and the blonde was going about her day, looking for souls to save from 'drowning' in the endless Elthia ocean. While she left the steering to someone else, Avery began to pace the main deck, looking for some sign of interest. A few miles off, she could make out the vague shape of something in the water. She made a gesture for the boat to head that way and moved to the railing.

"Looks like we've got another live one, boys!" she called, pointing to the horizon.


O.O.C. ;; first post, done!

[ugh pls]

reply post - literate - group
word count: 1001

He had no intention of wandering into Equestrian club, but there he had ended up. After his spat with Nurse Reed and Elodie, he'd stormed out of the infirmary and made his way out into the open. A breath of fresh air would help him, he thought, but his trembling was hardly over, and all he wanted was to make his way back to the dorm for the night and forget that this day had ever happened. What else was he to do? Caught between the present and his memories of what was his life before Aevum, he couldn't seem to find his head properly. Everything in front of his eyes seemed to be displayed in military pattern; time still seemed to go by in military hour, he still stood too stiff, too tall at times. Relaxation never seemed to be a thing for him. The gunshot was still ringing in his ears when he was stopped by a professor and directed toward his club, apparently it was necessary for him to be social on this campus, as much as he hated the idea. With a huff, the freckled veteran turned away from the professor and sulked toward the stables where he assumed his club would be meeting. Who the hell signed him up for equestrian anyhow? He didn't know a thing about horses, and he sure as hell didn't plan on riding one any time soon, if that was what they were thinking for him.

Charlie entered the stables with a wary look about him, keeping close to the back walls until he was nudged forward by the snout of a rather large looking horse that flared it's nostrils at him. Unsure of himself, he made his way toward a throng of people that had gathered in front of the man he could only assume was the professor. He introduced himself as professor Madox, a young man who looked to be almost the same age as his students, but Charlie had no complaints to give. He stepped closer to the group just in time to hear the man who ran the club announcing what will be done today. "There will be no riding today," he stated firmly, and among the groans and sighs from students who seemed to actually care about the club, Charlie found himself sighing in relief with the other half of the members of the group. He wasn't necessarily afraid of horses, he just didn't trust an animal with his life. Hell, he couldn't trust a human with his life any more, who the hell was to judge him for not being able to trust another person? A scowl settled on his lips at the very thought.

His expression stuck as the man drawled on. Apparently instead of riding, they would be taking care of horses. Scraping up dung, brushing them down, feeding them, taking time out of their daily schedules in order to take care of the animals. He cast an uneasy gaze toward one of the mares that stood behind him and swallowed. He wasn't so comfortable with being around big animals, but he wasn't about to let that show through his exterior at the moment. Instead, he turned his unamused gaze to the professor once more, this time to focus his attention on the group assignments that would be rattled off. The idea of groups made him cringe, but assigned groups seemed to settle his uneasy stomach. Assigned groups kept him from having to try to socialize - or worse - being that student who stands alone at the end and has to be lumped together with some other unfortunate group that refused to take him under their wing. His name was rattled off with three others; Coen, Diemante, and Hammond. His gaze settled on the three who moved together to the side, making up a group, and was relieved to find he wouldn't be the only guy among the four of them. Grudgingly, he shuffled over and waited in tight lipped anticipation for the professor to instruct them. Group two was assigned three horses and left with the equipment he needed.

The members of his group were a mixed bag. One girl looked less enthusiastic than he was; a swearing blonde who he'd sworn he'd seen somewhere on campus before. The second was a bubbly young blonde who seemed to force a smile at the rest of them. The last, the only other male of the four, was an eccentric young man who seemed almost too happy for Charlie's liking. He glanced up at the open-armed young man and cleared his throat.

"Charlie," he introduced, unsure of what else to say. "I've uh -- never been around horses before." he added, frowning at the large creatures. Not a fan of physical interaction, particularly after his war days, he forced a smile and nodded patiently at the others.

Before long, he had noticed hints of tension coming off of the woman he assumed to be Miss Diemante. He glanced her way and moved around her, careful not to make any physical contact. "Look," he stated, eyeing his group members. "I'm not big on animals, but hell, I've been through worse than maintaining stables." Charlie picked a pair of boots off the ground and kicked his shoes aside one at a time, tugging them on. "If that means I'm left to clean the stalls, so be it." he added defiantly, picking up a shovel and looking around at the other three. "I don't know about you guys, but I just want this day to be over," he added, his voice gruff.

Not bothered by the rest of the class chattering loudly around their small group, Charlie made his way toward one of the stables, where the first horse they were supposed to tend to stood with a sleepy look in her eye. "So, uh--" he began, hesitating by the door of her stall and glancing back at his group, clearly uneasy. "Where do we start?"



OOC

gah, midterms kill me, but hey, sorry for the lateness, here's charlie!


Charlie is currently hanging around the stables and is with his group at the moment, feeling a bit uncertain.

[ugh pls]

introduction post - literate - group
word count: 1127

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YOU HAVE ALWAYS WORN YOUR FLAWS ON YOUR SLEEVE; XXX AND I HAVE ALWAYS BURIED THEM DEEP BENEATH THE GROUND XXX DIG THEM UP; LET'S FINISH WHAT WE STARTED XXX DIG THEM UP; SO NOTHING'S LEFT
YOU HAVE ALWAYS WORN YOUR FLAWS ON YOUR SLEEVE; XXX AND I HAVE ALWAYS BURIED THEM DEEP BENEATH THE GROUND XXX DIG THEM UP; LET'S FINISH WHAT WE STARTED XXX DIG THEM UP; SO NOTHING'S LEFT
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location: town square XXX company: trace XXX mood: apathetic XXX pokemon: shiba - mightyena; metis - togetic

The Eudora festival should have had Evonne's spirits high, but of course she had been stuck working with her Captain instead. It wasn't who she was working with that brought her into a moody state, she had nothing against the man who had become her partner in fighting crime, far from it, really. No, it was the very idea of working a festival; missing out on the lighthearted activities that everyone looked forward to each spring because her job required her to act as security and swipe ID cards for a good portion of the morning. And to be up at this ungodly hour simply setting up for the festival was not exactly appreciated either. Eve paced around the boxes of decorations, studying what needed to be hung and calculating where things should go. She cast a knowing glance at the Zoren, Trace's Lairon which was dozing by an open box, and let out a muffled chuckle into the palm of her hand. At least one of us is enjoying today, she thought to herself, rifling through a previously unopened box for something to hang by the main entrance to the square. After managing to fish out the festival banner she had been looking to find for the past hour, Evonne turned around to find the ladder, a smirk passing across her lips as soon as her eyes settled upon it. Trace wobbled this way and that, his beloved Jet attempting to hold the structure steady. She shook her head and looked over to the entrance where Shiba, her Mightyena, was patiently standing watch.

"Shiba," Eve called, catching the attention of the pup who sat up, poised at attention as she had been trained. "Bring me that box?" Eve called, gesturing toward one of the grey boxes that held their supplies to hang banners and other decorations. The pokemon gracefully swaggered over to the box and lifted it, turning toward her owner, but before she could make her way over, something imperceptible to the human ear caught her attention. "Shiba?" she called once again, frowning at the rigid frame of the typically docile creature. Before she managed to call out once more, the box clattered to the ground, sending tacks and tape rolling across the uneven stone of the square. Shiba growled, her back arching defensively and paws launching the wolfish creature's frame forward, cutting across the empty square in a matter of seconds. "s**t," Eve cursed under her breath, taking off at full speed after her pokemon. Three strides out of the square and she had already lost sight of her.

Her eyes scanned the horizon, darting past houses and buildings. I knew I should't have trusted her out in the open like this, the lieutenant thought with a heavy sigh, shaking her head. Where was she to look? Whatever had spooked her companion clearly wasn't around any longer. Before she was able to formulate an entire plan, a growl caught her attention. She spun around on the heel of her boot and began sprinting once again, more determined than ever to catch her pokemon once more. She weaved in and out of buildings, peered down alleys and between patches of trees here and there attempting to locate Shiba, but to no avail. Every bit of success she seemed to make left her confused and lost, but she was able to quickly pick the trail back up. After ten minutes of fruitless searching, her trail having gone cold, Eve circled back to the square and found Shiba face to face with a squirrel, growling relentlessly and poised to attack. "Get back here this instant!" she cried, pulling out a pokeball and retrieving the mutt. The squirrel, poised in terror, stared for a moment before bolting away. Her gaze flickered down to the ball in her hand, and she couldn't help but shake her head. "A squirrel," she muttered under her breath. "Unbelievable."

Wandering back into the square, she found Trace standing by the boxes of banners and decorations she had been idling by before her wild goose chase had begun. She pushed her hair from her face and wandered to his side, giving him an irritated look. Her exhaustion had to be apparent, she could feel it pressing down on her shoulders, weighing her frame down physically and beating at her bones. "Sorry." Her response was curt. She held out the pokeball toward him as if to explain. "Someone got a little too excited about being out this morning." Eve couldn't help but crack even the smallest of smiles at that idea. Terrible as it had been, she didn't mind chasing around her pup as long as she was having fun. She ran her fingers over the pokeball for a moment, caressing the smooth sphere before placing it back into her bag and withdrawing a second one.

"Exciting as this has been, what do you say we get this finished up?" she said with a smile, releasing Metis from his ball. The bubbly Togetic fluttered into the air for a moment, stretching his wings before diving at Trace and screeching excitedly. He always managed to get himself worked up over his trainer's partner. Her fluttered around from trace to Zoren, even stopping for a moment to land on Jet before taking off again and spiraling at Eve. She reached up and snatched him out of the air with a laugh. "Relax," she cooed, letting him go once he stopped squirming. "Maybe if we finish early enough we can grab a coffee," she offered, glancing up at Trace with a smirk. "My treat."

She walked across the square, picking up the ladder and carrying it over to the main entry. She gathered what she needed and looked up to the fluttering white mass in the sky. "Metis," she called, causing the Togetic to spin around, looking her way. "Come help me with this?" She held up the banner and began pinning it just where it hung best. Metis helped her out, holding up the second side to ensure things were even before they were hung. She finished up and slid herself down the ladder, landing on the balls of her feet. "Let's see what else," she muttered, walking back over to a box and fishing around through the decorations for something else to hang. Decorating wasn't exactly her strong point, but hell, if it meant getting out of here early enough to get a decent cup of coffee and a bagel, then by all means, she would get it done.

She glanced over her shoulder at Trace and grinned, throwing a ball of wadded up tape at his head. "Don't just stand there," she smirked. "The faster we get this done, the faster you get free doughnuts."
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Volosh

[ugh pls]

reply post - one on one
word count: 1729

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　　　 　　 　LOOK WHO'S DIGGING THEIR OWN GRAVE 　　 THAT IS WHAT THEY ALL SAY　　 YOU'LL DRINK YOURSELF TO DEATH 　　 LOOK WHO MAKES THEIR OWN BED　　 LIES RIGHT DOWN WITHIN IT
　　　　 　　 LOOK WHO'S DIGGING THEIR OWN GRAVE 　　 THAT IS WHAT THEY ALL SAY　　 YOU'LL DRINK YOURSELF TO DEATH 　　 LOOK WHO MAKES THEIR OWN BED　　 LIES RIGHT DOWN WITHIN IT




I should have known waking up this morning was a bad idea. Even before my eyes were entirely open, the light of day was far too harsh and my head was throbbing with remnants of last nights escapades. I groan, moan maybe, whatever you want to call it, and roll onto my side, squinting angrily at the half open blinds that were the cause of my early morning. With a grunt, I grab my watch off of the floor and grimace. Only I would wake up an hour and a half before class and think it too early; at this point I've come so accustom to my five minute star bucks runs that I can hardly stand being up any earlier, but for today, I decide it's fine enough. I roll off my mattress and onto the floor, stretching out and listening for the satisfying pops that come from my back. I give a satisfied groan, rubbing at my eyes before finally sauntering toward the door, clad only in my underwear. I wander to the bathroom in a daze, distantly, Henry yawns and I'm made more aware than ever how early I'm up. He's usually gone by the time I get my a** out of bed. Sure, we're two lazy ********, but usually he's a little less lazy than I am. With a shrug of my shoulders I head for the single bathroom and try to pry open the door, but find it locked. My brows furrow in confusion. "Henry!" I growl, slamming my fist into the flimsy door to the point where it rattles on the hinges. "I've gotta take a piss, man."

A laugh drifts through the door - certainly not Henry's, and I'm forced to step backward to get a better view of the figure that thrusts the door open in my face. She's young, maybe nineteen or twenty at the most, with dark blonde curls and deep brown eyes, and one of those smiles you don't forget. She's a doe-eyed beauty, that's for sure, and for a moment, I groan internally. How the ******** did Henry manage this one? I think to myself, astounded. Henry, the fine art and painting major who can hardly look away from a canvas long enough to look at a girl had apparently given this one a very good night. She flashes a smile at me and brushes by, a giggle slipping from her lips. "Sorry," she adds with a grin. "You can take your piss now."

I can't help but groan in humiliation as I shuffle into the bathroom and allow myself to get prepared for the morning. I hop into a cold shower to calm myself down and brush my teeth, examining my scruff in the mirror, scratching at it. I think back to my poor mother; if she saw me right now, she'd be calling me a cave man. She never did like facial hair. The thought alone is enough to make me turn from the razor settled on the side of the sink and head back toward my room, Henry and his new friend having disappeared into his bedroom for the rest of the morning. I roll my eyes. Young love. Yeesh. I'd rather be gagged with a spoon than have to listen to them for the rest of the morning. I toss my towel onto the bed and tug on fresh clothes - nothing out of the ordinary, unlike the rest of this morning - and head for the kitchen. You can almost hear the two of them through the walls, and it's worse than rowdy morning escapades in the sheets, no, she's giggling. I can hardly contain my disgust. I could deal with the alternative, I've had to a few times now, but laughter? It meant that he was trying to be 'charming' - telling her some sort of cheesy s**t joke and wrapping his arms around her. Promising breakfast, probably. Instead of stick around and listen to the two of them, I grab my keys and head out, feet hitting the pavement in less than two minutes flat. I'll take starbucks over shitty coffee in the morning any way.

The barista gives me a surprised look when I push through the doors of the coffee shop three blocks away from my apartment, the approximate half way point between my place and where my first class is being held. She doesn't seem displeased, at least. Instead, she picks up a cold cup and marks it up before I can even tell her my order - if that doesn't give you a hint at my coffee addiction, I don't know what will. By the time I've made it to the counter, the man in front of me having finished paying, a hazelnut iced coffee sits waiting with my name scrawled on the side and a smiley face to punctuate it. "And what if I hadn't wanted an iced coffee, Sarah?" I ask with a crooked smile. The red head laughs and shakes her head, sliding the drink toward me with an amused look. "The day that happens, I won't be working here anymore." I tip her two bucks and chatter for a few minutes before I decide that class could be starting soon and I should head on my way. With a splash of milk mixed into my drink, I saunter back onto the street and make the next three blocks in record time, only about ten minutes or so before my feet touch the edge of the pavement that is legally claimed to belong to New York University, everything my mother had ever dreamed of for me. I studied the looming buildings for a long moment before settling back into reality and heading for the building where my Historic Lit class is being held. Even with my early rising I still saunter into class just on time. A few students glance up at me, the professor nods his head, almost approving of my being on time, and I take my usual desk; nothing good ever seems to come from sitting some place new, or so I've noticed.

He calls roll, barking off numbers, and I nod my head when he gets to mine, closer to the end than the rest. Before I realize it, the professor, a scowling old man with thick framed glasses, informs us that today he will be assigning random partners for our term project; a rather large chunk of our grade. I cringe internally. Partners are not my thing. Group projects are not my thing. Historic Literature is not me thing. And perhaps most important of all, people are not my thing. I shut my eyes and wait for a number to be paired with my own, and when it is, I scan the room for the other face that I assume will be just as displeased as my own is. It takes me less than thirty seconds to locate her. She's a brunette, not bad looking, with a set of wide eyes and a cleft in her chin. For a moment we hold each other's gaze, and something seems to change in the air. A shiver shooting down my spine makes the hairs on my arms stand on end. I can't help but look away, clearly made uncomfortable. Whatever it is about this girl, I'm not sure that I like it. I don't even know her name, her number alone is all that seems to be relevant at the moment, but that look she gave me, there was something different in it. I shrug it off and listen intently while the rest of the numbers are called, and we are instructed to communicate with our partner before we leave for the day, take care of the project for homework, and bring in ideas for the next class. I grunt as people around me move this way and that, beginning to buzz with idle chatter and introductions. When I open my eyes again, she's standing before me. My brows furrow, trying to concentrate on her rather than the way her stare seems to unsettle my nerves.

Her name is Raegan, and she talks too much. Too fast. I can't fight the smile that tugs at the corner of my lips. "Noah," my reply is short, to the point, and perhaps a little too obvious as to how unhappy I am about having a partner in the first place, but it's better she know now than find out tonight, isn't it? She's already pulling out her phone after rattling off ideas for meeting tonight, checking the time, I assume, but my brows arch regardless, naturally curious. "Is this your not so subtle way of hitting on me?" I reply, extending my hand and taking her phone when she offers it up. A smirk finds its way onto my face while I type in my cell number and set my contact name. Hopefully the poor girl can take a joke. I slip the phone back into her hands and stand up, taking a moment to scratch at my beard to process the assignment.

"I could care less where we go," I state matter of factly after a short pause, slinging my bag over my shoulder and glancing down at her. "As long as we get this done."

Her second statement throws me off a bit. I'm not sure if it's the mention of Greek Gods, the way she's looking at me, or both at once, but there seems to be a bit more force behind the statement than I was expecting. I arch a single brow, studying her for a moment, unsure of just how much she knows about Greek Gods. "I like mythology," I add, picking my words carefully. Perhaps it would be best to veer from personal opinions on the subject matter with her. I make a mental note of that. "If you're not terribly opposed to eating and working, I might know a place where we can meet up," I add, thinking back to a small diner a few blocks away from my apartment that Henry had showed me in my Freshman year. They were open well past midnight, and their coffee kept me going on nights when paper deadlines drew nearer and my word document blinked desperately for words I simply couldn't find. "What time are you free?"


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[ugh pls]

introduction post - literate - group
word count: 1332

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&&XXX THE MIRROR'S IMAGE, TELLS ME IT'S HOME TIME XXX BUT I'M N OT FINISHED, 'CAUSE YOU'RE NOT BY MY SIDE XXX AND AS I ARRIVED, I THOUGHT SAW YOU LEAVIN'XXX ⇣⇣
&&XXX THE MIRROR'S IMAGE, TELLS ME IT'S HOME TIME XXX BUT I'M N OT FINISHED, 'CAUSE YOU'RE NOT BY MY SIDE XXX AND AS I ARRIVED, I THOUGHT SAW YOU LEAVIN'XXX ⇣⇣
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location: munna inn - room one; daycare XXX company: ellie; ada XXX mood: anxious; helpless XXX pokemon: atlas - bayleef

A man like Orion Hikari rarely settled down in places, and upon reaching the outskirts of Eudora, he had no intentions of making this little town any different than the ones he'd seen before. Three nights ago, he had arrived at dusk with a backpack slung over his shoulder and a pokeball tucked away in his pocket while Atlas, his beloved Bayleef, stood at his side. He'd glanced down at the wary pokemon, intending to pass through this town and settle at the next one for a night or two, but the haggard look in the eyes of his closest friend told him that a change of plans was necessary. That night he'd taken up a room at the Munna Inn, the first one available, and in spite of his usual ability to keep tabs on Atlas, his poor pokemon came down with some unknown ailment overnight. That had been three nights ago, but today, on the fifth of spring, the poor creature was no better. Sluggish and weak he curled at the foot of Rion's bed, letting out soft mewls here and there in answer to questions tossed by the worried master. Nothing seemed to help; natural remedies, rest, fluids, nothing. It seemed that more than anything, there was a terrible illness that was keeping Atlas from feeling his best, and as much as Rion would have loved to pack his things and continue moving, there was no way he could do so without his companion feeling well enough to travel.

That morning, he had woken up to find Atlas moved from the bed to the floor, too physically drained to drag himself up after having found a snack to soothe his stomach in the middle of the night. Rion sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes, and looked around, confused. "Atlas?" he called, his voice thick with sleep. "Atlas--"

In a fluid moment, Orion swung his leg over the side of the bed and hit Atlas in the side, earning a low whine in protest from the Pokemon."What the --" he frowned, getting out of bed and dropping to his knees to examine his companion. "s**t, Atlas, what are you doing down here?" Orion pressed his palm against the Bayleef's head, earning a groan of approval from the pokemon. His skin was hot to the touch, and seemed to have a flushed tint to it the likes of which his master had never seen. The red head's brows furrowed in a mixture of concern and confusion. A fever? Could pokemon get fevers? Anything was possible, he supposed, but that meant that Atlas was getting worse, nothing was working. His stomach began to sink in a sickly unsettling way. "Alright, buddy," he cooed, stroking the head of the large green pokemon a few times to relax him before picking himself up off the floor. "We'll get you some help, can you walk?" Atlas hesitated a moment before trying to lift his body, legs wobbling beneath his own weight. Progress was slow. His knees buckled as he tried for a kneeling position. Orion helped him to his feet, but upon taking his hands away, all support gone, his body swayed and collapsed beneath him, too weak to hold. "s**t!" Rion thrust his arms out to catch Atlas, but the sheer force with which the Bayleef fell took him by surprise. They were both knocked to the floor, sprawled flat on their faces side by side. Perhaps he would have laughed if the moment hadn't seemed so critical. "B-Bay..." Atlas croaked weakly, begging for help.

Unable to think of any other solution, Rion pushed himself back up onto his feet and headed for the dresser. The clock on the wall blinked the time, earlier than he would have liked, but hopefully it would be a decent hour to call upon one of the daycare workers down stairs. He rummaged through his drawers, pulling out pants and a shirt that he quickly tugged over his head and legs. He tripped on a pant leg, grunting and groaning as he slammed his elbow into the side of the dresser and let out a howl in pain. Atlas emitted a weak excuse for a laugh, which brought a hopeful smile to his master's lips. After a few moments of wrestling with clothes, he stood over his pokemon, calculating a plan.

"If you can't walk, and I can't carry you, we're going to have to compromise," he stated matter of factly, holding up a pokeball. A look of terror came over Atlas' face, and for a moment, he began struggling. Rion knew too well how his pokemon felt about pokeballs; he hated using them himself. They were too cramped for someone like Atlas, who needed to be able to spread about and wander off on his own whenever he liked. "I know, I know," he replied, kneeling on the ground beside his companion. "But there's no way we can do this. I promise, it will only be for a few minutes." Atlas butted his head weakly against Orion's chest, a desperate sign that he needed physical reassurance. Without question, he dropped his hand onto the pokemon's head and stroked him in silence, breaking only once or twice to murmur soft words of encouragement. "We're going to get you better," he vowed. "I promise."

Once the pair of them had reached some level of calm, Orion opened the pokeball and his Bayleef disappeared from sight. He caressed the ball for a moment, shutting his eyes and mentally apologizing over and over for what he had done. Ever since first catching Atlas, he'd allowed him to roam freely at his side with little to no argument as to how the two of them would travel. Their relationship was built on trust, not on power. With a sigh, he grabbed his keys from his night stand and headed out the door, keeping Atlas' pokeball clutched tightly in his hand.

The daycare was on the first level of the inn, and his room was on the second. As soon as he hit the hallway, there was a sudden need to rush. Having located the nearest stairwell on the first day of his arrival, Orion made a beeline for the exit that would bring him into the lobby. The stairs he took two at a time, making leaps and bounds over them as if that minuscule amount of time he managed to win back would make some dramatic difference. It didn't matter to him at that moment, though. Any time he could have was worth it. He came skittering through the doors into the lobby and smacked directly into a young woman who had just entered the inn; a pleasant looking blonde who - as soon as he hit her - seemed to embody the sentiment of irritation. "Excuse me," he grunted, shouldering past her and making strides twice his normal side toward the side of the building where the daycare was housed. The doors between the two buildings were heavy - for some reason that stuck in his mind the most in those seconds that he was half running toward the young looking pinkette at the desk. Nearly breathless, as if he hadn't taken a moment to breathe in the two minutes it had taken him to dart from his room to the main floor, he pressed his thumb against the pokeball and allowed Atlas to materialize in front of the woman, looking sickly as ever.

"You have to help me," he demanded, a new found urgency in his tone. "He's sick, I need help." In a meek attempt to agree, Atlas raised his head just enough to look up at the young woman behind the counter with glassy eyes. "B-Bay..." he croaked. Orion's gaze flickered from the pinkette to the pokemon, and then back again. "Please," he added, his voice trembling just enough to be detectable to the human ear, if one was listening carefully enough. "He needs help."

[ugh pls]

reply post - literate - group
word count: 1387

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YOU HAVE ALWAYS WORN YOUR FLAWS ON YOUR SLEEVE; XXX AND I HAVE ALWAYS BURIED THEM DEEP BENEATH THE GROUND XXX DIG THEM UP; LET'S FINISH WHAT WE STARTED XXX DIG THEM UP; SO NOTHING'S LEFT
YOU HAVE ALWAYS WORN YOUR FLAWS ON YOUR SLEEVE; XXX AND I HAVE ALWAYS BURIED THEM DEEP BENEATH THE GROUND XXX DIG THEM UP; LET'S FINISH WHAT WE STARTED XXX DIG THEM UP; SO NOTHING'S LEFT
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location: town square XXX company: trace, okami, willow XXX mood: unhappy XXX pokemon: shiba - mightyena; metis - togetic

One would think that at this point in time, people would be used to the way things were technically supposed to be run. Never had there been a time since the transformation of pokemon to gijinkas where Team Rocket had not had absolute control over everything. Sure, a rebellion may have sprung up here or there with whispers of threats coming from different sides of the groups in Eudora, but Team Rocket was always careful, if not overly so. There was always something different; a public punishment, perhaps, or even more recently, the use of these personal identification cards that everyone was forced to have on their person at all hours of the day. One would think that with all of these precautions, all of the conditions they lived under, the constant stresses and pressures that they were forced to face day in and day out, that perhaps one person - a single person - would be able to understand that staying away from things like festival setups, where there were supposed to be maximum security outposts at every entrance and exit, would be off limits. One with think. But of course, the people of Eudora were too friendly for their own good, or perhaps friendly wasn't the right word. Naturally curious.

She hadn't been expecting an interruption. No, she never was. It was naive, she knew that better than anyone else, but the lieutenant never exactly expected that crimes would break out. She never assumed that there would be a problem to worry about, or that there would be interruptions. After rolling out of bed this morning at some ungodly hour to prepare for the festival that would be coming together in a matter of time, she hadn't sat at the edge of her bed and imagined what it would be like if the hot springs masseuse or the dancing fortune teller simply waltzed their way into the town square and took her by surprise. No, she had thought about what normal people might think about at that hour; what was for breakfast, how long did she have to shower before in order to leave without being late, and most importantly, would she beat Trace to the scene of the festival or not. She never expected this sort of thing, but while she wobbled atop the ladder with Metis hovering at her side, a hammer and tacks in her hand, she was met with an unexpected fate. "Oye," a voice called out, startling her from the current task at hand. "Ya missed a spot." Nothing was more irritating to Eve than being interrupted by some smart a**, though when she looked up and located Okami, she had few complaints. Smug as he looked with that crooked grin of his, she couldn't help but find the Zoroark gijinka at least a little bit charming with his ill timed humor. She shook her head and let out a low chuckle, climbing down from the ladder and gazing up at her work. "What," she called back with a laugh, brushing her bangs from her eyes. "You don't think that'll be good enough for the Eudora Festival?"

Her lighthearted teasing was brought to an end rather quickly. Trace was the one to jump in and act as an actual authority figure, much to Eve's dismay. As much as she loved her partner, she would be the first to throw him under the bus as a buzz kill when it came to having a bit of fun. But in the grand scheme of things, he was right. He rattled off the pre-prepared speech in a dry, dull tone that made Eve roll her eyes and toss Okami a rather unamused look. He seemed to be having just as little fun as she was, though the way he was poised on that railing looked a bit more comfortable than the way she was standing in her heeled boots at the moment. She stifled a huff. Uniforms could be so uncomfortable. When Trace had finished his little speech she skirted around Metis, who was floating between them, and gave her commander an elbow to the ribs, a smirk on her lips. "Jeez, T.K." she remarked, "I know you're a hard a** and all, but you never told me you'd memorized the handbook." Evonne let out a laugh and moved to her bag that was resting by the entrance. She knelt on the uneven cobblestones and allowed Shiba out of her pokeball once more. It wasn't that she didn't trust Okami, but if things began going south in any way, she did like having her attack dog on her at all times. Her delicate fingers rifled through the sack of odds and ends before she pulled out the PIDC reader and held it up.

"The faster you give me your PIDC, the faster we get this over with," the lieutenant proclaimed, walking over to the Zoroark and holding out a gloved hand, waiting for the identification.

Shiba growled the same time Jet seemed to freeze at Trace's side. Eve's brows furrowed and her gaze quickly began flickering from side to side, her hand dropping to smooth down the hackles on her Mightyena's back. While she was expecting another squirrel to have caught Shiba's attention, she was surprised to find that out of the corner of her eye a second figure was approaching the square, this one female and a bit less suspicious looking than Okami had been with his surprise entrance. "Calm," Eve murmured under her breath, running her fingers down Shiba's back methodically to put the pokemon's mind at ease. It was almost laughable how hypocritical she could be, the way she attempted to soothe Shiba into complacency while she herself tensed at the very idea of someone else approaching. Her grip tightened unconsciously around the PIDC reader. What was she so worried about anyhow, she was the law! A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips with that thought. She turned her head to motion to Trace, but he seemed to already have caught sight of whoever it was.

"Excuse me," the voice was a familiar one, but from a distance she wasn't quite sure of her identity. Someone she had met before, surely. "Do you two need any help?"

The approaching figure suddenly solidified into Willow, the fortune telling Chandelure gijinka who was known for her dancing. She was a pretty thing, Eve had to give her that; petite with short purple hair that she found herself envying unconsciously. Before she had realized what she was doing, she caught herself fingering the end of her ponytail, distracted by the thought of hair color and the curiosity as to what a hair cut might do for her these days. She had been keeping it longer for awhile now. Don't get distracted, she scolded herself, shaking away the thought and taking a few steps toward the young woman who was slowly approaching. Before she managed to shake her head no to the question that had been directed toward her and Trace, her captain had jumped in relatively quickly and demanded once again identification. "Your PIDC, if you please," he grunted in that grumpy way of his. She felt the need to disclaim that yes, he was always this grumpy, but scarcely had the chance to. "I must be certain you are permitted to be here right now." Always business with him. She couldn't fight the laugh that bubbled up from her stomach and slipped past her lips, but managed to muffle it with a gloved hand.

"As much as I hate to admit it," Eve said with a sigh, tossing a knowing look toward Trace. "Officer Kahn is right." The lieutenant approached the newcomers, holding out her hands to both of them. Shiba sat patiently beside her master, still looking rather suspicious, but neither managed to rouse a growl from her. "Technically civilians are not allowed to be on the premises until the festival is officially underway." Eve stated, cringing when she realized how matter of fact she sounded. Her nose involuntarily wrinkled. "Unless of course you have authorization to be here." Her gaze shifted from one member to the next, hand still extended expectantly, awaiting their PIDC cards, along with an explanation, if they so chose to provide one.
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[ugh pls]

reply post - one on one
word count: 1493

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　　　 　　 　LOOK WHO'S DIGGING THEIR OWN GRAVE 　　 THAT IS WHAT THEY ALL SAY　　 YOU'LL DRINK YOURSELF TO DEATH 　　 LOOK WHO MAKES THEIR OWN BED　　 LIES RIGHT DOWN WITHIN IT
　　　　 　　 LOOK WHO'S DIGGING THEIR OWN GRAVE 　　 THAT IS WHAT THEY ALL SAY　　 YOU'LL DRINK YOURSELF TO DEATH 　　 LOOK WHO MAKES THEIR OWN BED　　 LIES RIGHT DOWN WITHIN IT




There's something refreshing about the way she looks at me, compared to the other painfully complacent faces in the room, with their glassy eyes and forced smiles, she is the first to present me with a human reaction. My teasing seems to take her by surprise, and that pretty little mouth of hers drops to her chest. I hadn't been expecting that much of a reaction, but hell, I'll take what I could get, and if that's what my teasing her a little bit got me, then I'll be having a delightful time working on this project with her. The color that rises to her cheeks almost takes me by surprise, and I can't help but wonder what it would feel like if I press my palm against her reddening flesh. I force the the thought away in time to flash her a charming smile and move my gaze to the clock. Class has nearly ended, and we seem to be the only two left in the room debating over what to do, though I swear somewhere in the distance I can hear another set of partners arguing over where to begin.

Her comeback is unexpected, and nearly knocks me off my feet. I can't hold back the laugh that bubbles up at my lips and escapes before I have the chance to hold it back. It's hearty and booming, and earns me an irritated and surprised look from the professor, but I ignore him; it's what I'm best at, after all. "You're right about that," I reply, and she looks smug, but I don't mind that one bit. She won this round, but next time I'd come out on top. I nod at her suggestion; meet up there and work out their ideas. Perhaps we can discuss taking on Hades. The very thought of my father makes my jaw clench and my fists ball. There's always been some negative backlash when it comes to him, just thinking about the god made me tense. No, I'd veer toward something else, keep my mouth shut and ensure that her opinion was considered first, that would be the best way to go about it. "I'll see you then." I reply with a grin, and she saunters out of the room with a certain sway of her hips that keeps my gaze lingering a bit longer than it should have. Hell, she started it, she hit on me first. The thought makes me laugh to myself, and I toss my bag over my shoulder, wandering into the hall and headed for my next class.

- - - - - - - - - - -

"Noah," someone called, distantly. I groan and instinctively roll away from the noise, wanting nothing more than for my slumber to continue uninterrupted. "Noah, come on, man." Henry. I groan and slowly open my eyes, glaring up at his scruffy hipster face. The goofy smile that's plastered on his lips is enough for me to want to hook him directly in the jaw, but somehow I manage to restrain myself. I grunt and roll onto my side again, the couch is simply too comfortable to abandon this afternoon. I swat Henry away when he reaches down to try to pull me up, and he lets out a heavy sigh. "Fine, man! Be late for your date!" he erupts, shoving me hard in the shoulder. Date? My eyes snap open and with the force from his shove I'm pushed off of the couch and onto the floor, landing flat on my back. The ceiling needs to be repainted. My gaze flickers over to Henry, who looks rather smug, but I ignore his grin. "What time is it?" I mutter incoherently. He replies that it's five thirty, I guess I'd told him early enough that I had somewhere to be tonight. Hm. Planning ahead, how unlike me. I glance down at my boxers and tee shirt and groan. I have to get ready. "Thanks," I mutter when he extends his hand to help me up. It isn't much, but it's enough. I pull myself to my feet with little help from the art student and shoulder by him, grumpy as ever. Thankfully I'm able to dive into my closet and pull out what I need; a pair of dark brown pants and a blue button down that I tug on with no hesitation and fumble to button up. Formal as it may look I quickly dress it down by leaving the first two buttons open and rolling the sleeves up to my elbows. I slide a watch onto my wrist and run a comb through my hair before wandering out into the main part of the loft, where Henry is sitting watching television.

"Hot date?" he asks with a knowing grin, and I hit him in the back of the head as I walk by to grab my shoes. "Don't wait up," I answer with a smirk, and he laughs loudly. It's the last thing I hear before I close the door on him.

I get to the diner early. Better to be early than late and leave Raegan thinking she was stood up, right? Maybe that's just my imagination going a little wild, but hell, I don't mind being first. The hostess is a pretty girl, around twenty with blue eyes and freckles. She smiles politely at me when I request a table and leads me over to an empty booth. When she tries to take my order, I inform her that I'm waiting for a friend. "But a cup of coffee would be nice, if you could. Black." I reply, and she gives me a kind smile and wanders of to fulfill my order. I don't mind the wait. I draw my phone from my back pocket and idly begin scrolling through a few updates on my facebook feed. Nothing interesting; nothing's ever interesting about facebook, really. I wrinkle my nose. A few minutes pass and the young woman returns, placing the cup of coffee in front of me. She leaves me with a pair of menus.

It's not long before Raegan wanders in. The bell on the diner's door gives her away, and my gaze flickers up instinctively as it has been for the past ten minutes while I've been waiting. She slips by the hostess and for a moment, I take her in. She looks nice, I note, and allow my gaze to move back to her face, which seems to epitomize relief when her eyes find me sitting in the booth. "Hey," I greet, moving some of my things from the table in order to make room for her. She sits across from me, as I expected, and is quickly ready to get to work. Before I knew it, she was rattling off names of gods and goddesses, ready to chose one and get to work. Not that I was complaining. The faster we could get this done, the better. "I say we take all of them off of the table." I agree when she names the popular few, including Hades. My stomach relaxes from the knots that had suddenly been drawn up upon her mentioning his name. Call me paranoid, but I don't like hearing his name at all, let alone talking about him in general. "Maybe we go with one of the lesser known ones, then," I offer as a suggestion, leaning back in my seat.

When the waitress comes by again and she orders her coffee, I order a large fry for us both to split. Hell, I haven't eaten, why not? I might as well have something to pick at while we get to work, right? When she wanders away, I move my mind back to the task at hand.

"I mean, there are so many other gods we can look at," I say, pulling out my own notebook and opening up to a list I had scribbled down some time before I'd fallen asleep that afternoon. I crossed off the originals that we'd already taken off the table. "I mean, we have people like Dionysus, who's just like, the party god. Or we could do someone like Hera or Hermes, y'know?" I rattle off a few names, shrugging my shoulders. "I vote we stay away from Artemis and Apollo, though, those two are pretty well known, too."

The waitress comes back and places the mug of coffee and glass of water beside Raegan, and slides the fries to me. Almost on instinct, I push them toward Raegan, setting them in the middle of us. "Y'know, if you get hungry." I explain before looking back to my notes, attempting to brush off the gesture as natural. I grab a pen from my bag and circle the main choices we've been presented with right now. "So uh, I mean, of the gods we have now, do you have a preference?" I ask casually, reaching out to snatch up a fry from the plastic basket between us.

[ugh pls]

introduction post - lazy lit - group
word count: 1242

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　　　　LAST CALL FOR SIN 　　 WHEN EVERYTHING'S LOST　　 THE BATTLE IS WON 　　 WITH ALL THESE THINGS THAT I'VE DONE
　　　　LAST CALL FOR SIN 　　 WHEN EVERYTHING'S LOST　　 THE BATTLE IS WON 　　 WITH ALL THESE THINGS THAT I'VE DONE



Empty, or nearly empty. Ryan's foot kicked the steel trash barrel he'd been rummaging through, sending a loud clang reverberating along the corridor of the abandoned building. Probably not his best idea, considering the bottom half of the place had been filled with a couple of clickers, but he wasn't too concerned. Sure, echolocation might help them out, but when he was three floors over their heads? They didn't have much of an advantage. He'd been scouting for hours now, making his way through the ruins of the city, dodging clickers, and picking up whatever he could get to make the run worth his while. Some rebel had wanted information on the sector, which had once been a section of the quarantine zone before it had been overrun by biters. That had been years ago, and while there was now a pretty solid wall between the abandoned zone and the one that housed survivors, this side of the wall was his favorite to scower for supplies. Regardless of what his favorite red head wanted to know about this place, he was selfish. He had to get something out of it too now, didn't he? Risk his life for her and come out with nothing in return? That wasn't the way he did business these days. With a heavy sigh he pushed away the barrel and looked down at the cracked face of his watch, grimacing. His meeting with the girl was less than an hour away, and he had to make it back across town if he was going to get to that cafe in time. His nose wrinkled. She was the demanding sort, too.

He walked across the room and picked up his backpack, which rattled with rolling flashlights and other supplies. His left hand went to the loop of his belt, checking that his gun was still tucked into the back of his pants as always, and that there was ammunition ready to be used. He shouldered the pack, his gas mask hanging off the side as always, and began moving once more, his heavy military boots gave almost no hint of his movements. He'd been doing this for years now, living on the edge in order to survive, it was the only way he knew how, really.

The building was an old one, an office sky scraper that went up about thirty or forty stories with broken windows and vines attempting to reclaim what once was theirs. Ryan glanced around the halls as he wove in and out of office rooms, looking for the best way out without having to make his way down to the first level, where the side of the building had somehow managed to get blown off and clickers and runners had wandered in over the past months. He grimaced at the image of one clicker, head bursting, fully blind, essentially grown to the wall because of the amount of fungus that had seeped from its head when it was pinned down there by a desk. He shuddered. Anything to avoid going through that death trap a second time. About five stories from the ground, he managed to find a room with a fire escape that would allow him to hop the tops of a few buildings before hitting the street. 'It's my lucky day,' he thought to himself as he crawled through the open window and stepped out onto the rusted escape. The metal, worn as it was, shifted beneath his feet a moment before settling, deciding that he was a bearable brute. Using the wall to support himself, Ryan leaped across the gap and landed on the opposite roof, thankfully only about a foot below the fire escape. He gaze across the horizon, toward where the cafe, their designated meeting spot, stood abandoned, and grinned. The rooftops would take him nearly half way there. Without much else to occupy his thoughts, he began to run.

He was nearly three quarters of the way across the rooftops when his foot was caught on another rusted fire escape ladder, his boot snagging on the sharp metal. Already committed to the jump, his body lunged forward and his legs flailed behind, sending him plummeting about four stories toward the hard asphalt. He did his best not to yell, a few rotting corpses and bags of garbage breaking his fall and muffling the impact, but it was all for naught. The escape ladder, which had been hanging by a few rusty bolts, came crashing down after him. The sound was loud enough to attract clickers and runners anywhere within the vicinity. Ryan winced. '[********]' he cursed mentally, not daring to breathe another word aloud. He was in enough trouble as it was. He slowly wriggled out from beneath the ladder and lifted himself onto his hands and knees, then to his feet. If he were lucky, he might just make it out alive. The tattooed spy began doing what he did best; sprinting across the rough cement, taking turn after turn at a calculated speed, his mind creating images of the town's layout as he went along, sure to avoid any clickers when he heard them from a distance. Soon enough, with fat rain drops beginning to pelt him, he was skittering around the corner, only a block away from the cafe with no runners or clickers in sight. A satisfied grin played upon his lips.

The cafe was dank, but safe. He had to force himself through a good amount of rubble before he could make it inside, nothing a brain dead biter could manage. He did note, however, that the girl had beaten him here, which made him wrinkle his nose. As soon as he'd stepped inside, he spotted her perched upon the bar, looking docile as always but as soon as she opened her mouth, he felt himself rolling his eyes. "The rain slow you down or what?" she shot at him before he'd had time to place his pack on the table. "Give a man a minute to breathe, will you?" he muttered, shaking his head at her before sauntering over toward her. "Didn't your mama teach you patience is a virtue?"

He approached her with a grin, his hands reaching out for the bar on either side of her. His fingertips brushed the ration packs and he looked up at her. At this level, she was an inch or two above him, perhaps, but he didn't mind that. "What, don't want to spend time with your favorite spy?" Ryan drawled with an obviously exaggerated pout, leaning toward her. "You hurt my feelings an awful lot these days, Will." His fingers wrapped themselves around the rations, probing at them to see what could possibly be inside. Jerky, it seemed, but what was that? His gaze dropped down for a moment to the sugar packet. Could it be? He didn't dare hope she'd be willing to pay him this well, but now that his hands were on it, he wasn't exactly keen on letting it go. "Most of 'em wandered into a building on the south east side. I ran into some trouble about eight blocks back," he admitted, brushing off the details of his fall. "A bit of a distraction, but it should've lured the stragglers out of the streets. As for your navigator," Shepard paused for a moment, offering her a crooked smirk. "That information might cost you something extra."

O.O.C. hope this is okay c: