|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Wed Jan 18, 2012 12:37 pm
So, I was wondering.
I don't normally write sad posts dealing with something like suicide (murder yes, suicide no). Actually, I've only ever written one. I wanted to ask ya'll what was your saddest or most difficult emotionally filled post?
Care to share? :3
Sadness is always a weird emotion to try and get across for me. The others, I think I can get just fine, but sadness is a weird one cause it's always mixed up with other emotions. Any tips on writing for that emotion?
Are there any emotions that ya'll have a problem writing for or don't feel like ya'll do a good job writing for? Any tips to give or that you've found for writing for those emotions?
EDIT: there was a concern about having to type up something new. You certainly don't need to type anything new to post here. You can find something old that you're proud of where you feel that you best captured that emotion to post here :3
Paste in your post or post snippet :3 I'm all up for improving my writing abilities and getting feedback on both my writing and the characters that I play.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jan 18, 2012 12:38 pm
 NPC Nelson
Fraternity Treasurer &
Ricky's Personal Secretary
Aka: Neal, Neil, Neel, Nel, Neill, Neale, Neo, or Natan
------------------------------------------------------ ooc: play this while you readNelson sighed upon seeing Damien fall asleep on the couch and had to smirk with what the blond girl was doing to him. Still, he was one of the people he was suppose to be watching. He usually wouldn't be able to leave until he made sure that the other boys had left unless Ricky came over here himself, which he was almost hoping for. He noticed Crimson leave and Alex was on decent enough behavior. He just couldn't stay here anymore. It upset him too much.
It'd only be a little while longer before he could just go back to his room. Alcohol and hurt feelings don't go together. Or maybe that it's they go too well together. He managed to stay for a few more minutes before he just couldn't take it anymore.
His short walk back to the Fraternity House was an uneventful one. If anything, he just didn't want to be seen anymore. While in the shower, he couldn't count the amount of times he sighed or the amount of times that he glanced to the mirror to see how pathetic he looked. He'd been able to keep up his cold b*tch look until he got to his room and had the door closed and locked behind him. Now his emotions were just getting to him and he turned way from his reflection to turn off the shower and get ready for bed.
His sleep wasn't any better.
It was now halfway into the semester and Nelson couldn't take it anymore. Despite knowing that it was pretty much Ricky's duty to be married to Bridgette, it didn't make it hurt any less. He'd woken up and felt like he couldn't even make it through the rest of the year knowing what was at the end of it. He'd worked hard all throughout college and had managed to maintain a straight 4.0 GPA - even with his soft cream colored pillow catching his tears or his fists almost every night. But now... It just hurt. So many things felt too... finalized.
That he wasn't going to get Ricky.
That Ricky and Bridgette were going to marry.
That he'd be the only one this upset and depressed about it.
He didn't count Bridgette's feelings about the situation even though he knew what she wanted to do most because he knew that Ricky would take care of that for her so that she could still fulfill her dream. He was that kind of guy to take so many burdens off of other people and take them onto himself. Nelson didn't think that Bridgette would understand that. Even if she refused, Ricky would slowly starting taking the responsibilities from her because he'd want to make her happy. If that meant that she was happiest dancing her little heart out, then Ricky would let her.
But where did that leave Nelson in all of this?
Honestly... he didn't see himself anywhere in the picture. Not even in the background as a measly little accountant watching from afar. Both companies had their own people and seemed to only hire from a certain pool of people. Even if he was qualified, there was no way for him to get in other than Ricky. Nelson couldn't stand just being on the side though. He wanted to be in the front, even if it was only to be shoved over a desk and f*cked senseless Ricky had to acknowledge him even for that small amount of time. But since that wasn't going to happen... what was he going to do?
Those thoughts lead to where he currently was. With a rope around his neck and standing on a chair next to his desk. It was the middle of the night, so who would bother walking in? Certainly not anyone that cared. Not Crimson, not Damien, not Jackson.... not Ricky. So he stepped and the chair fell over with a quiet thud on the soft floor. It was only after he was hanging there that he realized that he hadn't made his perch nearly high enough to snap his neck. But suffocating was ok too he guessed. While he fought himself to keep his fighter's instincts from saving himself, he thought back again to what lead him to this decision. What exactly had started the chain of self-destructive thought to lead him to biting his lip hard enough to make it bleed and wringing his hands together so hard they hurt – to keep himself from saving himself? Was it that he'd finally found something – someone - worth fighting for only to find out that he couldn't fight for them at all? Was it that he didn't want Bridge to be happy in his place? Was it that he didn't want to be alone anymore?
Things were getting hazy and he felt like he was crying. He was always one of those people that couldn't seem to cry and breath at the same time, like it took too much effort to do just one so his body just couldn't possibly do them simultaneously. Funny that was. He compared this feeling to the overall feeling of the first time he found out that Ricky and Bridgette would be getting married. This suffocating feeling... this feeling of substantial loss in a way that was detrimental to one's life... they felt the same. He remembered the way that his chest constricted in pain that night, the way that his eyes burned, how wet his pillow had become, how constricted his throat felt and how much it hurt – oh wait, that last one was just now.
His legs were starting to kick around now. He was still fighting it. His hands were bleeding from digging his nails into himself though he hadn't even known that he was doing it. He remembered reading on the internet once that when you suffocate, if you last long enough you'll loose consciousness. For a while your body will simply swing in silence. A quiet pendulum as you fight yourself to save your life. That you might still be able to think somewhere in your mind despite the lack of oxygen and the tight feeling in your chest that throbs somewhere you're not sure of anymore. You feel kind of dissociated from yourself.
And if truly no one comes, and you last long enough, that you'll swing quietly into death. Not a sound will be uttered. Not a tear for your departure. And your soul and your body will have this quietness to disappear into the night without a single cry. Even as the tears still rolled down Nelson's face and the blood from his hands hit the cream carpet on the floor, everything was silent and nothing made a sound. Not even when he was still swinging and slowing gently to an eventual stop. His heart wasn't pounding anymore, his tears weren't falling anymore, and he wasn't on this plane anymore.
Silence would encompass him until the morning when Ricky would be looking for him to speak to him about the accounts from yesterday.
Come morning, he noticed the tears on his pillow and the way that his chest had constricted during the night as he cried. He may have died in his sleep, but awake, it didn't make a bit of difference in what was going on with the world now. Nothing had changed and Nelson turned to weep into his pillow with the silence of the room borrowing into his ears. ------------------------------------------------------------ I gotta do what I gotta do. And sometimes, I don't like doin' it.-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- That's my one sad post. It was interesting the write, but I'd like to know how I did. Feedback?
Post something of yours :3
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jan 19, 2012 12:15 pm
Jon Hopkins - Black and Red
This is the song I was listening to over and over while typing this.
When it hits about 3:08-3:10, that is his face hitting the pavement in my mind.
It's long, so be forewarned - the post I mean - not the longest I've written but getting there I suppose.
My aim with this was for a reasonable fight scene, losing memories, portraying amnesia, and a very a*****e char.
Let me know how I did if you read through it all : D----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Richard Sahadev It had been a nice night, cool but comfortable. He'd just left Zales after picking up the ring he'd planned to propose to Eric with. Richard checked the clock on the dashboard and saw that he still had more than enough time to swing by one of Alice's stores and pick up the new clothes he'd asked his friend to set aside for him. Of course he spoiled Eric by getting him clothes that weren't even out in stores yet, but it's just what he did. He parked his car on the side of the road and headed to the back of the building to get in. Ricky had borrowed a copy of the key to get in since Alice had other plans with another tall, dark, and handsome. His mind had been on how this night would go since he woke up yesterday. He'd planned what the chef was going to make for them, had the table set in his head, the mood, the lighting. He was even going to pull the rose petal trail – although they were going to be fake petals; one, because it was far less mess; and two because they could keep them for later. He'd gotten off work early today to plan everything out, including making sure that they had all the ingredients for making a cake together at home. Funnily enough, he'd been debating over his 'speech' to Eric and couldn't seem to settle on anything. While normally, he'd be far more irked about this, he also felt that for this situation, it was okay to just... go with the flow for once. Granted, he still wanted the night to be perfect and he wanted to end a perfect night making love to Eric whether he accepted or declined. What egotistical b*****d wouldn't love making someone scream their name during sex? If anything, even if Eric said no, he'd be screaming yes. The thought made him smirk.
Richard was about to reach for the key in his pocket when he heard shuffling behind him, turned, and ducked, barely being missed by a metal bat to his head. The sound of the aluminum scraping against the metal of the door was loud and resounding in the darkened space behind the chain of stores. There was plenty of light behind these buildings – they were expensive stores so it made sense – but he certainly wasn't expecting to be attacked out here. The second swing at his torso was harder to dodge and the meeting of metal clanged in his ears as the bat hit metal railing. He wasn't focused on the sound though. What he was focused on was the number of people he'd just counted. Nine people and one person hiding in the shadows whom he couldn't see, but could see over enough people's heads to be able to see them there. Even with the darkness illuminated by well placed lamps, he couldn't recognize any of his attackers faces, but it also didn't help that they were wearing the typical black ski masks and dark clothes. As soon as he recognized a gun being pulled out and the resounding click of another he had yet to locate, it was like everything suddenly slowed down.
Running through water with slow-mo turned on was the only way to explain what it felt like to move. It felt as if he couldn't move out of the way fast enough as he heard the whizzing of a bullet pass his head and the very delayed sound of the gunshot reach his ears sometime afterward, like he couldn't reach far enough to grab one of the guys closest to him and wretch the gun from his hand by breaking the guy's wrist. Metal gleamed from the corner of his eye and he yanked the body he was still holding to his side to block a shot meant for his arm. He was moving again, fluid and graceful for a man his size, and yet feeling impossibly slow. Three more men went down. Were bones usually this hard to break? It felt like he was trying to bend a steel bar as he incapacitated the men he got his hands on by breaking arms or wrists so as to render them harmless without killing them. His leg tingled a bit as he grabbed another man and subsequently flipped him over. Ballet was what came to mind. The graceful lifting of one form by another in a coordinated dance that left one dancer on the floor, broken like a porcelain doll, and the other bending away as nine more delayed shots were registered. He felt his shoulder hit something as he turned, arm arching like a hook and fist making contact with a face, his tall form making a picturesque curve of the body seen in old Master's paintings. The momentum carried him down to duck two more whizzes he heard and his opposite arm was carrying him up as the delayed sound of four shots were registered. He moved again and his side hit something. The other men were too far away, miles it felt like, but the barrel of their guns looked so close. Something grabbed his leg and it made him lose balance.
It was a moment, just for a moment, that he'd lost balance, his hands moved in front of him to stop the fall, his other leg trying to move forward when he'd caught sight of something red falling faster than he was in the light. His head turned to see what it was but as his face hit the ground, it felt like something exploded around him. Everything was so loud all at once, and resounding like an infinite echo. He must have looked surprised. He couldn't have been sure, but it felt like it as his eye lids started to close in a blink and tried to comprehend what happened. His eyes opened again after completing a blink cycle, and it was like the fast forward button had been hit somewhere. Things were going so quickly, the men were leaving faster than he could see and he could only catch glimpses of them. The other's that had been lying on the ground were gone and then timed stopped. Everything became quiet.
~~~~~~~~~~
Eric smiled at him that day and linked their arms together. His smiled was so bright, so happy, Richard forgot to breathe. They were only going to class, 'what's so special about class?' some part of his mind wanted to know. What was so special about class? Where were they even? Were they still at school? His hand rose to touch his lips as he was tugged along through the busy hallways packed with students. Did they seriously just kiss? What was all of this kissing business? He'd seen it a million times but was it normal for his lips to feel this tingly? Maybe he had something weird at lunch. There was a beautiful sound, although it sounded sad for some reason. Only after he saw Eric leaving did he realize that it was Eric telling him that he had to go to class. Things weren't suppose to go like this, he was suppose to just be using Eric to keep swarms of girls off of him. As he sat down at his desk, he wondered what would happen now. He'd always expected that his first kiss would be from a girl.
--------
The night was cool, but he felt like he was on fire. Eric slowly laid back on to the soft cool sheets as Richard's mouth trailed down a soft neck and shoulder, the larger man purring at the feeling of the hands tangled in his hair and the erratic rise and fall of the chest beneath him. It was a softness that he could feel with all of his senses, and a addictingly suffocating air that almost made it hard to breathe, and yet, he wanted to drown in such a thick atmosphere where the gorgeous sounds coming from below him easily weaved through the air and caressed his senses. ~~~ The sheets were bunching, being gripped tightly by hands smaller than his own. A loud cry and a scream of his name as Eric's back lifted and curved off of the bed, making it easier to suck on overly sensitive nipples and move his hand down to buckling hips.
--------
Laughter as Eric fell into the sand and wiggled about in an attempt to avoid being tickled. It didn't work very well, obviously. One of the beaches of Cancun was all theirs and the bright blue waters helped to cool them off as a wave washed up on shore. Rarely did either of them really want to get dirty, but as their lips met for the 200th time that day and the water moved around them, neither of them really cared. Ricky pulled Eric up to straddle his lap. They would have given a new meaning to 'sex on the beach' right then and there if the tide didn't have a say in soaking them and causing them to break their kiss in laughter.
~~~~~~~~~~
Richard felt like he was losing something. Like something was slipping away and out of his grasp. He didn't notice when someone who had heard the gunshots had found him lying in a pool of blood. He didn't notice when they were yelling to see if he was still awake and conscious. He didn't notice the woman freeking out and just short of yelling into the phone at the 911 operator she had on the line. Richard didn't hear the ambulance, didn't feel himself being moved and having his vitals checked, and although his eyes were open everything was blurry and he only had a very very small point of focus. It was like looking down a semi-transparent tube. The woman that had found him had squeezed his hand as the paramedics spoke loudly to see if he could respond, but Richard didn't hear or feel any of that. He didn't have a concept of time anymore, but he knew that at some point, his eyes must have closed and there was nothing.
.
.
.
.
It was like he was trying to walk on the biggest water bed in the world. He couldn't keep his balance. It made him nauseous on more than one occasion.
.
.
.
.
He'd been feeling lost recently. He had no idea where he was.
.
.
.
.
It was odd to feel someone touching his hand when he felt so disassociated from his own body.
.
.
.
.
There was talking, but it was just a mumble. He couldn't make out any of the words.
.
.
.
.
How long was he going to be like this? How long had it already been?
.
.
.
.
Wake up!
.
.
.
.
WAKE UP!
.
.
.
.
OPEN YOUR EYES! WAKE UP!
Was the world really so bright? He brought a hand up to shield his eyes and he cringed, turning his head away from the light source. Someone was in front of him but it look a moment for him to actually hear them speaking. They sounded excited, or what he assumed excitement over something would sound like. As his eyes adjusted to what he was pretty sure was the sun harnessed in a light bulb, he looked up at the person that was now standing by his bed. They looked hopeful, but Richard could only look confused. He had no idea who this person was. He looked around and realized that he didn't know where he was. How did he get here? Was he in danger?“Richard?”He looked up at the person standing next to him. That was his name wasn't it? It took a moment in which he looked down to think about this fact to decide that 'Richard' was in fact his name. Richard looked back up to the man standing next to him whose hopeful face was faltering just slightly.“How...How do you feel?”“Fine.” He felt fine at least. Granted, he hadn't tried to move around or anything yet and he'd just spotted a tube coming from his arm. What was this place? He was fairly sure that he'd never been here before. Although.... that wasn't saying much seeing as he couldn't seem to remember much anyway. Which came back around to wondering how he got here. Since he didn't know, it make some kind of sense to ask this person. “Where am I?”“You're in the hospital. Your brother called me and said that you'd been mugged and I came as fast as I could.”“Hospital?” And... mugged? Eric could sense Ricky's questioning about the subject and tried to explain. “A woman said that she'd heard gunshots and found you in a pool of blood.” Eric paused and looked down, obviously upset and unsettled about the topic and whatever else he may have been feeling. “The doctor said that you were shot nine times. One was to the back of your head.” There were tears welling up in Eric's eyes that he was trying to hold back. Richard couldn't empathize though. He didn't remember any of this occurring. Why had he been targeted in a mugging? Was he carrying something important? Was it for ransom? Also, there was another question bugging him.“Who are you? Why are you here?”Eric looked up with shock written all over his face. Richard remained calm because he was obviously missing some crucial information. Not like he cared what this other person was feeling anyway.“I'm... I'm your boyfriend Eric, Ricky. You don't remember me?”The blank look Eric received made the answer painfully obvious. The doctor walked in, which was probably good because Eric was a tad speechless. He knew he'd been told that memory loss was likely, but he hadn't prepared himself for it to actually occur. His emotional attachment to Ricky and vice versa were too strong to forget, wasn't it? At least, that's what he wanted to believe. That maybe it'd be like a movie or a miracle on a tv show and Ricky would defy all odds. He saw Ricky as strong and capable, and 'I can't' wasn't something that was in his selective vocabulary when Ricky was determined to do something. “Do you remember anything about me?”“No.” Eric looked down and seemed to focus on his shoes when Richard suddenly spoke up again. “Assuming that you're not making up bullshit, how long were 'we together'?”Eric's mouth quirked a bit at Ricky's tone of voice. “Ten years as of a month ago.” Richard sneered at that. “That is bullshit. What makes you think that I would want to be with you for anything other than a good ********> Richard said this as his eyes raked over Eric's form in what could only be described as an otherwise lewd and lustful fashion, completely lacking in compassion or 'give a s**t about your feelings'. To say that it hurt Eric might have been an understatement, but Ricky didn't know this kid, so why should he care? The guy didn't look like he had any kind of wealth attached to his name and he doubted a business partner would be here looking like a hurt little girl. The doctor cleared his throat after watching the interaction between the two. Richard turned his head to the man.
“Mr. Sahadev, you've been in a coma for a past month. You were shot nine times. Two in the thigh, one in the shoulder, five in your torso, and one to the back of your head.” Richard was confused a moment. When did this guy show up to begin with? “It's possible that you might have Post-traumatic amnesia, however, for that, we'll have to test your memory shortly if you're feeling up to it. It also seems apparent that you have retrograde amnesia, so we'll test to see how extensive that is as well. While your skull was severely cracked, surprisingly, the bullet did not go through your skull and did not touch your brain. Did you understand everything I just said?”
Richard looked highly disbelieving, but he nodded to which the doctor accepted and continued. “The muscle in your left thigh, your midsection, and your shoulder were incredibly damaged, however, with physical therapy to help rebuild the muscle, you could be out of here in a month or three depending on how well things heal. You've done a very good job of healing so far while you were in a coma, so I think that you should do well with physical therapy.” doctor paused again to make sure that Richard was understanding what was going to happen, to which Richard nodded again. As one of the tests of Richard's memory, the doctor spoke again. “This is Eric. According to your, and his, family, you've both been together for just over ten years now.”
“My family?”
“Yes, your parents and five siblings.”
Richard must have looked confused, disbelieving, or both at this information because the doctor then said, “I can have them come in later to see if that helps you to remember anything. For now, I'd like to do a check up to make sure that things are still healing as they should and to test how far along your damaged muscles are.“ he motioned to Eric to move out of the way. Eric moved off to the side to give the doctor room and watched with something of a slightly sullen look. Richard didn't pay him any attention. It wasn't until the doctor had him trying to move did Richard suddenly feel how much he ******** ached. Not just in one place, but everywhere. The simple act of trying to sit up a little more caused him to become light headed and it felt his bones creaking, as if the weight of a single limb were four times what it should have been. The doctor didn't have him moving much after that. The subsequent memory recall tests weren't really any better. Although Richard could remember some things about himself such as his name and his occupation, he couldn't remember much of anyone else. The only people he seemed to be able to even vaguely recognize were three of his five siblings. He couldn't didn't know Kane or Hadya at all. Richard was also made to play a simple flash card memory game and although there were only nine cards, he seemed to have trouble remembering after four cards. Richard's obvious frustration at this told the doctor that he was genuinely trying and it also told him that it was likely that he wouldn't remember what he was told earlier. When asked to recall what Eric's name was and his ties with him, Richard had no idea, even though he was told three different times prior to the question being asked. It didn't take long for Richard's irritation of missing information to sour his already a*****e-ish attitude. A psychologist was scheduled to come and speak with Richard later in the week and his first physical therapy session was scheduled for the day after tomorrow.
Needless to say, physical therapy was not a fun time for Richard. Getting his limbs moving after not having moved them in a month, on top of the still healing injuries, was not a fun time at all. And, despite the number of rude remarks or apathetic looks that he would receive, Eric continued to show up as often as the hospital would let him just to speak with Richard. Although some of the things he had to say were fairly mundane and not overly exciting, he shared them anyway. Just talking about his day to Richard made him feel better and over the course of 2 and a half weeks, Eric had learned to blatantly ignore a lot of what Richard said. Also, as much as Richard tended to say mean things, Eric still helped him to eat, only one or twice telling Richard that he could eat face down into a plate if he really wanted – if anything, Eric's upset outbursts shut Richard up for a least short periods of time. Within two weeks, Richard's progress was very very good, and they soon moved him to slowly walking about. First with a walking aid, then without (because Richard was stubborn and was refusing to use it). Still, after only a month of physical therapy, Richard was discharged and taken back to his and Eric's shared condo. Eric had told him about a few times, but as about expected, Richard would not remember.
The first day back threw Richard off balance completely. While he knew that he was rich and ran businesses, a place like this baffled him. The only reason they really still had it while Richard was out, was because Richard had made a joint account that set aside enough money for Eric to live off of in their current life style for three years in the case that something should happen to him. It was a good thing he did seeing as Richard was the one making the mortgage payments, paying the bills, helping Eric with school, making the car payments, paying for their phones – Eric pretty much didn't have to work although Richard wanted him to after he graduated college.
Eric took his time showing Richard around and after Richard was exhausted from the physical act of walking around and moving, Eric put sticky notes on the doors (ones that wouldn't mess up the wood) so that Ricky's stubborn a** could find his way around without asking for help (because it's not like he was going to ask anyway). At least he knew that Ricky wouldn't do something like wander out of the building, or out of the condo unit even. It was hard enough for Ricky to get around, stretch, and function normally as it was. Not like Richard was up for admitting any of that. To also make it easier on Ricky, because that man was not giving in, Eric would write in a journal and leave it for Ricky to read since they day they'd gotten back, taking advantage of the fact that Ricky was snooping about in his own house. Richard took to snuggling with Eric in bed pretty well, if the touching of his a** was anything to go by. Besides that, Ricky seemed to have taken a liking to touching Eric, which Eric allowed as long as it remained appropriate. Pan came to visit on the second day of Richard's return and Ricky didn't know who he was either but was shamelessly flirting with him as much as he flirted with the female and male nurses at the hospital. Eric cooked for Ricky, Ricky complained about this or that, Eric would ignore him although occasionally answer legitimate questions that Ricky had and would write them down in the journal for Ricky to read over again later.
Richard had manged to shower himself that night and then crawled into their queen sized bed. No sooner did Eric crawl into bed with him did Ricky fall asleep, physically and mentally worn out. Interestingly enough Ricky still had his possessive sleeping tendencies, although they were more prevalent than usual but it was likely from Ricky's stressed physical and mental state. It wasn't necessarily something that was new because the same thing happened when Ricky was agitated over something enough. His growling this time around though wasn't real loud, more like a deep rumbling that was felt more than heard. So when Eric moved to get out of bed, he was having to wordlessly coax Ricky to release him. Of course, when he returned to bed, Ricky's arm would be around his waist again and pull him close. Richard was also far too tired from the previous day to even wake up when Eric left or returned to the bed.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
