{HOME, ALASKA} Signup/OOC {THREAD CURRENTLY CLOSED FOR MAINTENANCE}

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Dip, May 17, 2015.

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  1. [​IMG]



    Science Fiction, Slice of Life, Dice
    OOC
    I am ACCEPTING
    3 of ∞ Applications Sent
    0 of ∞ Slots filled




    This roleplay, while it is called Home, Alaska, doesn't not take place in the town Home. This is very much a sit-and-wait roleplay. Information will be relieved to those who participate and wait. There will be twists and turns, and plans will change in the middle of production. If you will not be committed to this roleplay, your part will be recycled and distributed to others.

    This roleplay will continue for a long time. The continuing threat in this roleplay is struggle, and the roleplay will continue until the struggle is fixed. This isn't necessarily fast paced, nor is it slow. Please, I implore you, do not join this roleplay if you don't believe you will stick with it in the long-run. I need people who are enthusiastic about writing, and I need them to be organized and very skilled in their craft.

    I understand that if bad things can happen, bad things will happen. I would appreciate a PM about a few days prior to your absence, but I understand emergencies. I will have a no tolerance policy, so if you do not PM me and you are absent for more than a few days and/or you are holding up the role play with your disappearance, I will re-open the acceptance slots to other players.

    I will be setting up another forum for questions and answers, along with out of original character talk and what-not. This will be used only for the character profiles. I will limit each player to two characters, but if you can convince me that you can and what to handle more, you may take up more. Any form of twins count as one character, and same goes for other family members.

    As far as characters go, I hope and pray that there won't be any carbon copies that have been around like before. I expect something different-- disabilities, phobias, mental illnesses, people of color, lgbtqia youth and elders alike. This roleplay will accept people from any age. 2-79, 1-89. If they can walk and have dialogue, I want them. I don't want tormented childhoods, not at all. I don't want 'my dad, mom and sister died in a car crash and i dont have friends', I want something I can feel. Trans youth, black youth, goth, punk! If you have it, I want it. Make your characters justified.

    For those who are wondering why the introduction to this RP may be a bit vague, here is the answer: it is vague. All will be relieved in due time.

    There will be dice concepts in this roleplay, and there will be different outcomes for all the players involved. This is very much a developing idea, and will continue to develop as time goes on. I would greatly appreciate help if you have any ideas that you would like to apply forward, or any recommendations. If you would like to be a GM-- this is directed towards people I know and have roleplayed with before-- please talk to me and help me cycle through some ideas. If you have read this much, adorn your character profile with the words, "Welcome Home" anywhere in, on or around your character sheet.

    Death in this roleplay is possible. A PM will go out with information concerning this topic. If you do not wish to die, talk to me in advanced.
    You have been warned.




    "An impossibly long, single-lane tunnel is your only way into this very mysterious community, and your only way out. Make it to the other end of those dimly lit miles, and you'll find all the ingredients for a town. Except instead of a sprawling, urban center, this town has been scaled to fit almost entirely into one lonely Alaskan tower."

    Welcome Home.

    [​IMG]

    "The two-and-a-half mile-long tunnel leading into this community is never crowded—it physically can't be. At about 10 feet wide, it can only accommodate traffic flowing in one direction at a time. What it empties out into is a smattering of buildings, few of which still serve their original purpose and the rest of which are a little more than empty husks.

    The two largest of those buildings are the Homewick Building and the Bluff Landing Towers. Both were constructed in the wake of an impending war, along with the railroad leading in. A combined fortune was spent to build a militant home base at the very farthest frontier. Homewick was abandoned just years after its completion; the military realized quickly that the poorly crafted building, made in haste, would only stand for a while before it would collapse on itself. Today, it exists as little more than a ruin, but surprisingly, hasn't fallen into itself yet. It leads residents to wonder exactly why it was abandoned., but we assure you that it was for natural and legitimate reasons.


    You, along with the rest of the community and your neighbors, currently live in the Bluff Landing Towers. The towers are nearer the rest of the ommunity-- the ones that don't live in the towers. The other buildings that aren't Homerwick or Bluff Landings are simply a community bar, the boat storage station and the local foodstore. Other than those three small buildings, the entirety of the town is located inside of The Bluff.

    The police station, the laundromat, the convenience store and even the post office are all located inside, and while they are located on different levels, they all belong in the tower. And with that, the community belongs there, too. Some live above, below or between these important sector. Town Hall even has it's own level!

    This homely town is based in Alaskan Frontier. While Alaska is the largest US state, it's also the coldest, the least densely populated, and the least connected. Out of all it's many towns, atleast 70% are not accessible by road. But none the less, humans have a variety of what and where they call home. This is a prime example of the inhabitable being carved into our home. That kind of fascination leads people to Alaska, and towards that small community. This small town, whose fewer than 200 residents live almost exclusively in the same building, is self efficient and as accessible and as inaccessible as it wants to be.

    This really is the most community-centered place you will ever live in, but at the same time, because you're so close to everyone, you may feel a bit claustrophobic. Other times you feel enormously grateful that they're there. And still, other times, even when you're surrounded by all your neighbors, you can feel completely and utterly isolated.

    Locals are often lead to believe that their lovely little town is hiding some hefty secrets, but we assure you that there is nothing to be suspicious of. This town-- your home-- has no secrets that haven't already been reviled to you. The urban tales you may hear in this tightly knit community are just that; tales. Urban legends. We repeat once again, that there is nothing to be afraid of in this little community.

    Thank you for your time and consideration, and enjoy your stay. This message has been sent to you by your local City Hall."








    -Please be kind.
    -Please only post your character profiles here. All questions can be PM'd to me.
    -Please be patient.
    -Please keep in contact.
    -Please stay on task.
    -Please write with correct grammar.
    -Please write more than 5 paragraphs.
    -Please keep all 18+ scenes to yourself and your respected partner.
    -Please put forward your ideas.
    -Please have fun.

    **Odd Nurse**

    **Wicked Doctor/Outlandish Medic**

    ****Heavenly Poltergeist****

    ***Studious City Council Member***

    *Enemy of the State/Hardy Delinquent*

    **Triumphant College Student**

    *Commonplace Commonfolk*

    ***Paranoid Guard***

    *Compliant Student*

    ***Weird Lurker***


    ***Convenient Choice/Recently Relocated***

    The number of asterisks define how important the character's occupation is. There are four level 3 ranked occupations, three level 2 ranked occupations, and four level 1 ranked occupations. If you plan on having more than two characters, please limit level three characters to one, and pick a lower level second. If you only plan on using one character, you may combine occupations to fit said character, after it has been rushed past myself. To eliminate crowding and over population in this roleplay, I will only allow a few select people to have one character. I will be PMing folk about characters and their importance in this roleplay. Keep in mind, things may change due to how you write your own character, and you may put forth the ideas you have for them, aswell, but preferably only through PM.

    The secret player-- Heavenly Poltergeist is a role that will be assigned to someone in secret. If you would wish to be this role, please DO NOT post your profile in this thread. Please only PM me your profile if you wish you fulfill this section. If you are accepted, I will NOT put you on the list, but I will keep in contact with you. If you need to PM me with your profile, please title it 'HOME, ALASKA - HP'. I would like you to read through the RP, and I will be sure to tell you when you will be included.

    Appearance: A picture, preferably a drawing. Not nessessarily an Anime picture, but not a real living person. If there is conflicts, or you need a wee bitta help, PM me.

    Full Name:
    Nickname(s):
    Title/Occupation:
    Age:
    Nationality:


    Sex/Gender:
    Preferred Pronoun(s):
    Romantic/Sexual Orientation:


    Family:
    Friends:


    Description:
    Height:
    Weight:
    Body Build:
    Notable Physical Traits:


    Phobia(s):
    Mental Disease(s):
    When and how was this diagnosed?:
    Physical Disease(s):
    When was this diagnosed and/or how did it happen?:


    Skills:
    Hobbies:
    Likes/Dislikes:
    Biography:
    What brought them to their home?:


    Example of a Reply: Here, you write and/or copy an example of your role playing.
    Example of Schedule: Here, you can tell me a little bit about your posting style, and what I should expect.


    The character skeleton is very flexible. If you character doesn't have a mental illness, or a phobia, or you wanted to add something, you may. The jist is needed, and it is a must. Keep in mind, a 13 year old wouldn't live by themselves. If your character has parents, you have the choice to give them an occupation or not. If your two characters are married and/or living together, they may have two different occupations and have a child who does not have one, or one has an occupation and the other parent does not.


    It would be wise to put horizon lines on your character profiles, as I did mine. if your character occupation has one line, you put one horizon line on said profile. The code for the lines is simply:
    [ hr ][ /hr ], but minus the spaces. If you had two, it would be:

    [ hr ][ hr ][ /hr ][ /hr ] and so forth. If there are complications with the profiles, I will be sure to assist you.
    While your character is living in an apartment complex, you won't be able to pick your apartment rooms or numbers. Depending on the character occupation you select, that is what you will get. I will send a PM with all of the information to those who get accepted into this RP.
    I will leave this thread open to the public for a good period of time, and I won't close it off until I have a good number of applications. In this time period, others may pick occupations that others have. Infact, you may pick an occupation that I already have for my character. There may be about 20 applications by the time I go to accepting them, and only about 1/3 may get into this RP. If this is not clear, please PM me so I may explain it further.

    If for some reason, you are not accepted but you would still like to be in this RP, I will look into it and see what I can do. I will allow a few people in, but it may take a few pulls in order to properly get everything in order.

    Chapter One: The Welcoming Comity.
    Chapters ahead are to be announced when the story progresses.




     
    #1 Dip, May 17, 2015
    Last edited: May 21, 2015




  2. [ 5'1" ] - { 102 lbs. }

    N a m e
    Eddie Fay

    A g e
    Nineteen

    S e x / G e n d e r
    Gender-Fluid Female

    R o m a n t i c / S e x u a l O r e n t a t i o n
    Bisexual/Biromantic

    N a t i o n a l i t y
    Palestinian American

    O c c u p a t i o n
    Commonplace Commonfolk

    P h y s i c a l D e s c r i p t i o n
    Eddie is, as some would describe her, a toddler. The way she walks is something like a toddle. She is short, with some weight on her bones. She has dark skin and soft curves, but sticks too close to the ground. She wears layers over layers to keep warm, and does so inside and out. Her hair is black and chopped short to her head, which can give her the appearance of the opposite sex.

    P h o b i a s
    - Fear of Swimming
    - Fear of Heights

    M e n t a l / P h y s i c a l D i s e a s e s
    - Pica: An eating disorder that involves eating non-nutritious things, such as rocks, sand, paper and other items.
    -Generalized Anxiety Disorder: Anxiety that can usually be used to save the life of people, i.e worrying about a situation ahead of time, becomes a struggle.

    P e r s o n a l i t y
    Eddie is naturally a kind, gentle person. She is likely the first person to start the party, and the last person to leave. She is very nice to strangers, and very likely to invite them into her home for a sandwich and some nice words. She's a social butterfly, and one of the best people in her fields for that job.

    She lives to help people, and loves doing so.

    S k i l l s
    -Very Social
    -Outgoing
    -Kind
    -Feisty
    -Almost always prepared

    H o b b i e s
    -Reptile care
    -Reading
    -Partying

    I n t e r e s t s
    -Reptiles
    -Reading
    -Other people

    B i o g r a p h y
    Eddie Fay was born in the Alaskan town, and raised there, aswell. She has no thoughts of leaving.

    E x a m p l e s

    There was a loud crash, a scream and a yell in respond. The crash was the large metal door slamming against the frame, the scream came from the body that was tossed to the floor, and the yell was from the tall man who tossed the body.
    The man knelt down and cuffed the figure under him, and the lump shifted and kicked in protest. Once the hand cuffs were hooked onto the frame on the floor, they took a moment to stand up. The kick that the cuffed criminal delivered did enough to knock the shoe off of their foot-- which wasn't a normal foot, mind you. It wasn't a surprise that the shoe came off so easily.

    The man wore something much like a detectives uniform, and he played the part quite well. He wore a badge that said, "Inspector J.J Baxter", as if the man was some sort of important person. He had a few scratches and bruises, along with some blood on his chin, and he was sure to get revenge for it. He wiped his jaw with the back of his hand, and spat out a good glob of blood. While the shoe had fallen off of the other's frame, it did deliver one hell of a wallop. He balled his fists, and pushed the convict down onto the ground.

    The other shoe came off, and the criminal made another yelp. They glared up at the other man, brown eyes so full of hate and disdain that any God would wish to strike down the man. They were wearing a pair of cargo pants, one that covered a very particular looking pair of legs. The pants were black, and so were the boots. It was as if the stranger had stolen the uniform from a sleeping guardsman, and slipped into the building unnoticed.

    Under the character's shirt was a pair of large wings, which they had disclosed rather nicely under a large over-coat. They had pulled off the uniform quiet well, until someone squealed and the right people got word of the wrong person. Inspector Baxter knelt down before the other body, and smirked. There was blood coating his teeth, and even the grin was enough to send the other person spinning.

    "You're not human, now, are you?"
    The convict spat in his face as a respond, which made the man lash out and grab at their neck. Baxter lifted the body into the air, as if their bones were hollow. The body kicked, trying to let the man release them from his grasp. They tried to grab a hold, but damn those cuffs on their wrists. The gasped, coughed, and finally spoke. "Y-Yes, Yes, I'm not."
    The man dropped the body onto their knee's, and pressed a large boot onto their chest, pinning them backwards and watching as the other flopped hopelessly on the ground.

    The convict's wings spilled out of the overcoat, trying desperately not to get stepped on or broken.

    Inspector Baxter smiled, and used his free hands to light a drag. He took a long pull, and rest his elbow on his propped knee, applying more pressure to the size 12 shoe on the other body's chest. "Now, what makes you think you can trespass onto private property, steal a uniform, pose as a police officer and smuggle in contraband from the outside world?"
    The body struggled under the weight of the shoe. They glared back upwards, showing no mercy. "I doubt that oranges count as contraband..."
    The man pushed down further. There was a gasp.
    "Okay, okay, okayokayokayokayokay..." They stammered, feeling the weight leave for a mere second. "You--all of you PEOPLE are denying these beings, those INNOCENTbeings their rights! If you even think--"
    "Don't start with me," The man rolled his eyes, ash falling from his cigarette and onto the struggling frame's mouth. "You animals have no right to walk among common folk. It's human nature to put down dirty dogs-- you freaks aren't even grateful enough to be Man's Best Friend. Plus, they've all been tried in the court of law."
    The other began loudly, "YOU THREW MY BEST FRIEND IN JAIL BECAUSE THEY WALKED IN A HUMAN NEIGHBORHOOD!"
    "It is the law."
    "You just executed an innocent being for working in the locomotive department!"
    The man cracked a small. He pushed smoke from his lungs. "What can I say? It is the law."

    This angered the struggling frame to no extent. They screamed, kicked, flapped, flailed and eventually freed themselves from the other man's power. They used their wings to fly hap-haphazardly from the ground and onto the table. They turned ready to attack the other man with their hands behind their back. They looked to the human with so much hate that it almost made the other man fall back in fear. He had long dropped his cigarette by that time.

    "You're disgusting! This isn't the law, it's fraud. It's murder. It's disgusting, it's offensive, it's not right. It isn't right, dammit! It isn't fucking right!" They screamed loudly. This caused quite a commotion, partly because others could see into the room and look at what what happening, and it looked like a 6'5" man was being sized up by a very loud and very scary Harpy.

    The man grabbed the figure by it's wings, and threw it back down onto the ground, this time using both feet to hold the harpy by it's wings. "Look here, bird-brain." Inspector Baxter said loudly, to the struggling frame. There were tears in their eyes, and fear in their heart as the thought of their wings breaking entered their mind.

    "We have tried putting you in prison before. We tried boot-camp. We all know what you can do, and we all know that every time we try anything, you manage to escape, so you know what? You're right." The smiled. "This isn't the law. So, I'm going to make special accommodations for you. I'm going to be your law. I'm going to be your new parole officer, and what I say goes."

    The man licked his lips. "I could kill you. I could, and I want to. So badly. But you'd expect that out of someone like me, right? So, I'm going to give you a deal that you can't refuse. I'm putting you to work." The man lessened the pressure of his boots on the other being. They let out a strained sound, gazing upward. "And... if I declineyour offer?" They smirked, but soon regretted it.

    The Inspector took his size 12 book and slammed it against the farthest segment in the Harpy's wing, causing it to break and the Harpy to scream out in pain. The Inspector smiled. "You won't."

    It was two weeks later that the law did take place. It happened at a humble postal service outlook, that had recently boomed in business. Inspector Baxter came into the building, holding an envelope and a large, fake smile. He plastered it on as he met with a very random service women.

    "Do you have any available positions?"
    The woman looked him up and down. "Not for humans."
    Baxter put the envelope on the table, and smiled. "Good."

    It took a while to get the papers all sorted out, and in that time, the Harpy was in a confined space. They passed the time scratching away at a nice groove in the wall, and screaming profanities to any human who tried to come close. Their wing was still broken, but only partly. They could still fly, but not for very long.

    The Harpy's name was Edurika, but not for very long.

    It had taken weeks to plan out, but Edurika had gotten a job that they didn't want. They had a badge, a uniform, and a quota that they had to meet. 'They' were now 'he', and Eduika was now Edd. Edd, now working for the Postal Service.

    The first day of work was terrible, and it was just being pulled out of confinement that had determined that. It took atleast two to get 'him' out of the building, and another half of one to shove them into a car. It was hell to get to the station, but once they were in there, Inspector Baxter grabbed the Harpy's arm and pulled him into the building, almost with enough grace as a baby on roller skates.

    Inspector Baxter looked at Eddie's new assistant, and looked down at the convict. The Inspector smiled, and pulled out a card from his wallet. "If he misbehaves, I'll be sure to assign you with a new partner. Give me a call if he's a naughty boy." Baxter placed a large hand on Edd's shoulder, and messed up his hair as he left.

    As The Inspector did leave, he made sure to look at Edd straight in his eyes, and stomp his foot on the way out. Eddie swallowed, and knew that he had to make nice with the very thing he hated. He turned to the other boy-- his new cowoker, and gave a shallow wave.

    "Uhm... I'm Edd."

    He was going to kill Baxter.



    I am currently involved in a few college classes, living on dorms, and attending a few musicals this summer. My schedule will fluctuate, but I am mostly available during the day time, the night time and the weekends. There will be more information about this later on.



     
    #2 Dip, May 18, 2015
    Last edited: May 20, 2015




  3. [ 6'3" ] - { 132 lbs. }

    N a m e
    Joesph [Joe] Doothoy

    A g e
    Twenty-Three

    S e x / G e n d e r
    Cis-Gendered Male

    R o m a n t i c / S e x u a l O r e n t a t i o n
    Homosexual/Homoromantic

    N a t i o n a l i t y
    French Canadian

    O c c u p a t i o n
    Weird Lurker

    P h y s i c a l D e s c r i p t i o n
    Joe is very much a hunch-back. He is always noticeably slouching in a manor that would make one think that he as plotting something wicked. His eyes are always wide and shallow, like he's caught in the headlights and he's being run into the river. He has long appendages and a slight problem when it comes to rum. Joe is a tall threshold that stands a little over 6 feet, and he's about as skinny as his index finger. He has faint traces of freckles, and a small gap in his teeth.

    P h o b i a s
    - Fear of Darkness
    - Fear of Complete Silence


    M e n t a l / P h y s i c a l D i s e a s e s
    - Manic Bipolar Disorder
    -Social Anxiety
    - Insomnia/Nightmare Disorder
    - ADHD
    - Addictive Personality Disorder

    P e r s o n a l i t y
    Joe is very much the opposite of Eddie. Joe doesn't like to go to parties, or even outside of his confined space. He is shy, soft spoken, and very much someone who would like to be lift alone at all time. Joe spends his mornings drinking coffee, the evening smoking himself through a few packs of cigarettes, and his nights drinking himself to sleep.

    He is known to have certain 'episodes', but people shrug it off. It's 'just Joe'. He isn't a very trusting person, and is a compulsive liar. He always keep to himself, and if he is approached by people, he avoids them as best as he can. He leaves them be, and hopes that they leave him be. He is very much more of an observer than anything else.

    S k i l l s
    - Chain smoking
    - Binge drinking
    - Writing
    - Playing the piano

    H o b b i e s
    - Piano playing
    - Drinking, smoking, ect.
    - Writing
    - Reading
    - Observing.

    I n t e r e s t s
    - Reading
    - Writing
    - Any sort of observation

    B i o g r a p h y
    Joe Doothoy was born in the Alaskan town, and raised there, aswell. He often has thoughts of leaving.

    E x a m p l e s

    There was a loud crash, a scream and a yell in respond. The crash was the large metal door slamming against the frame, the scream came from the body that was tossed to the floor, and the yell was from the tall man who tossed the body.
    The man knelt down and cuffed the figure under him, and the lump shifted and kicked in protest. Once the hand cuffs were hooked onto the frame on the floor, they took a moment to stand up. The kick that the cuffed criminal delivered did enough to knock the shoe off of their foot-- which wasn't a normal foot, mind you. It wasn't a surprise that the shoe came off so easily.

    The man wore something much like a detectives uniform, and he played the part quite well. He wore a badge that said, "Inspector J.J Baxter", as if the man was some sort of important person. He had a few scratches and bruises, along with some blood on his chin, and he was sure to get revenge for it. He wiped his jaw with the back of his hand, and spat out a good glob of blood. While the shoe had fallen off of the other's frame, it did deliver one hell of a wallop. He balled his fists, and pushed the convict down onto the ground.

    The other shoe came off, and the criminal made another yelp. They glared up at the other man, brown eyes so full of hate and disdain that any God would wish to strike down the man. They were wearing a pair of cargo pants, one that covered a very particular looking pair of legs. The pants were black, and so were the boots. It was as if the stranger had stolen the uniform from a sleeping guardsman, and slipped into the building unnoticed.

    Under the character's shirt was a pair of large wings, which they had disclosed rather nicely under a large over-coat. They had pulled off the uniform quiet well, until someone squealed and the right people got word of the wrong person. Inspector Baxter knelt down before the other body, and smirked. There was blood coating his teeth, and even the grin was enough to send the other person spinning.

    "You're not human, now, are you?"
    The convict spat in his face as a respond, which made the man lash out and grab at their neck. Baxter lifted the body into the air, as if their bones were hollow. The body kicked, trying to let the man release them from his grasp. They tried to grab a hold, but damn those cuffs on their wrists. The gasped, coughed, and finally spoke. "Y-Yes, Yes, I'm not."
    The man dropped the body onto their knee's, and pressed a large boot onto their chest, pinning them backwards and watching as the other flopped hopelessly on the ground.

    The convict's wings spilled out of the overcoat, trying desperately not to get stepped on or broken.

    Inspector Baxter smiled, and used his free hands to light a drag. He took a long pull, and rest his elbow on his propped knee, applying more pressure to the size 12 shoe on the other body's chest. "Now, what makes you think you can trespass onto private property, steal a uniform, pose as a police officer and smuggle in contraband from the outside world?"
    The body struggled under the weight of the shoe. They glared back upwards, showing no mercy. "I doubt that oranges count as contraband..."
    The man pushed down further. There was a gasp.
    "Okay, okay, okayokayokayokayokay..." They stammered, feeling the weight leave for a mere second. "You--all of you PEOPLE are denying these beings, those INNOCENTbeings their rights! If you even think--"
    "Don't start with me," The man rolled his eyes, ash falling from his cigarette and onto the struggling frame's mouth. "You animals have no right to walk among common folk. It's human nature to put down dirty dogs-- you freaks aren't even grateful enough to be Man's Best Friend. Plus, they've all been tried in the court of law."
    The other began loudly, "YOU THREW MY BEST FRIEND IN JAIL BECAUSE THEY WALKED IN A HUMAN NEIGHBORHOOD!"
    "It is the law."
    "You just executed an innocent being for working in the locomotive department!"
    The man cracked a small. He pushed smoke from his lungs. "What can I say? It is the law."

    This angered the struggling frame to no extent. They screamed, kicked, flapped, flailed and eventually freed themselves from the other man's power. They used their wings to fly hap-haphazardly from the ground and onto the table. They turned ready to attack the other man with their hands behind their back. They looked to the human with so much hate that it almost made the other man fall back in fear. He had long dropped his cigarette by that time.

    "You're disgusting! This isn't the law, it's fraud. It's murder. It's disgusting, it's offensive, it's not right. It isn't right, dammit! It isn't fucking right!" They screamed loudly. This caused quite a commotion, partly because others could see into the room and look at what what happening, and it looked like a 6'5" man was being sized up by a very loud and very scary Harpy.

    The man grabbed the figure by it's wings, and threw it back down onto the ground, this time using both feet to hold the harpy by it's wings. "Look here, bird-brain." Inspector Baxter said loudly, to the struggling frame. There were tears in their eyes, and fear in their heart as the thought of their wings breaking entered their mind.

    "We have tried putting you in prison before. We tried boot-camp. We all know what you can do, and we all know that every time we try anything, you manage to escape, so you know what? You're right." The smiled. "This isn't the law. So, I'm going to make special accommodations for you. I'm going to be your law. I'm going to be your new parole officer, and what I say goes."

    The man licked his lips. "I could kill you. I could, and I want to. So badly. But you'd expect that out of someone like me, right? So, I'm going to give you a deal that you can't refuse. I'm putting you to work." The man lessened the pressure of his boots on the other being. They let out a strained sound, gazing upward. "And... if I declineyour offer?" They smirked, but soon regretted it.

    The Inspector took his size 12 book and slammed it against the farthest segment in the Harpy's wing, causing it to break and the Harpy to scream out in pain. The Inspector smiled. "You won't."

    It was two weeks later that the law did take place. It happened at a humble postal service outlook, that had recently boomed in business. Inspector Baxter came into the building, holding an envelope and a large, fake smile. He plastered it on as he met with a very random service women.

    "Do you have any available positions?"
    The woman looked him up and down. "Not for humans."
    Baxter put the envelope on the table, and smiled. "Good."

    It took a while to get the papers all sorted out, and in that time, the Harpy was in a confined space. They passed the time scratching away at a nice groove in the wall, and screaming profanities to any human who tried to come close. Their wing was still broken, but only partly. They could still fly, but not for very long.

    The Harpy's name was Edurika, but not for very long.

    It had taken weeks to plan out, but Edurika had gotten a job that they didn't want. They had a badge, a uniform, and a quota that they had to meet. 'They' were now 'he', and Eduika was now Edd. Edd, now working for the Postal Service.

    The first day of work was terrible, and it was just being pulled out of confinement that had determined that. It took atleast two to get 'him' out of the building, and another half of one to shove them into a car. It was hell to get to the station, but once they were in there, Inspector Baxter grabbed the Harpy's arm and pulled him into the building, almost with enough grace as a baby on roller skates.

    Inspector Baxter looked at Eddie's new assistant, and looked down at the convict. The Inspector smiled, and pulled out a card from his wallet. "If he misbehaves, I'll be sure to assign you with a new partner. Give me a call if he's a naughty boy." Baxter placed a large hand on Edd's shoulder, and messed up his hair as he left.

    As The Inspector did leave, he made sure to look at Edd straight in his eyes, and stomp his foot on the way out. Eddie swallowed, and knew that he had to make nice with the very thing he hated. He turned to the other boy-- his new cowoker, and gave a shallow wave.

    "Uhm... I'm Edd."

    He was going to kill Baxter.



    I am currently involved in a few college classes, living on dorms, and attending a few musicals this summer. My schedule will fluctuate, but I am mostly available during the day time, the night time and the weekends. There will be more information about this later on.







     
    #3 Dip, May 18, 2015
    Last edited: May 20, 2015





  4. Full Name: Naomi Carboni
    Nickname(s):Nao to everyone, Carboni to her step brother
    Title/Occupation: Triumphant College Student
    Age: 20
    Nationality: Italian American
    Sex/Gender: Female
    Preferred Pronoun(s): She, her, etc.
    Romantic/Sexual Orientation: Straight

    Family: Naomi was born to Fernando and Clara Carboni in Rome, Italy. Her mother died in Italy when she was 9. When she was 11, her father got engaged to his long time girlfriend, from Alaska, Julie. Julie already had a son, at the time aged 13, named Michael Adams.
    Friends: Naomi and her step brother, Michael, get along very well. She is also friendly with most people she comes across.

    Description: Naomi is a tall woman, standing at 6' even. She has long and dark brown hair that she likes to experiment with for different styles, though she would never dye it. She has a small, petite frame, despite her height and is very pale.
    Height: 6'
    Weight: 122
    Body Build: Petite - String Bean
    Notable Physical Traits: Naomi is very boney, and very very skinny. She is slightly underweight.

    Phobia(s): N/A
    Mental Disease(s): N/A
    When and how was this diagnosed?: N/A
    Physical Disease(s): Epilepsy, Chronic (frequent) Migraines, PCOS - Infertility
    When was this diagnosed and/or how did it happen?:
    • Naomi has had seizures since she was 6 years old, and for the most part has them managed. She usually has them a couple of times a month, and she likes to joke that they come in 3s.
    • She started getting migraines when she was 4, and when the neurologist determined that that was what was happening he said it was one of the youngest cases of migraines he had seen or heard of in his career. She now takes daily hear medication to regulate them, but she is bad at taking it and even so gets them about once a month.
    • When Naomi was 16 years old and had not had a period, she considered herself lucky. When she was 17 years old and still had not had one, her step mother took her to the doctor. She was diagnosed with PCOS, polycystic ovary syndrome, but because of her delay to go to the doctor it was too late and she was already infertile. To help regulate her hormones she takes birth control. She also has to work hard to keep her weight in check, as being overweight is not an option.

    Skills: Naomi is good at cheerleading and learning other languages (she currently knows english, french, and italian). She is also good with people, and can usually cheer someone up. She also rolls a very impressive blunt.
    Hobbies: Naomi enjoys a good book, cheerleading, and watching Italian sitcoms.
    Likes/Dislikes: Naomi likes diversity, smoking pot, and cheese. She also enjoys old television shows such as Buffy the Vampire Slayer. She does not like carrots, and has a particular disdain for math. She also doesn't like mean or dishonest people.

    Biography:Naomi was, despite her health issues, a normal child. She enjoyed her life in Italy, but when the time came to move she did so without hesitation or upset. She grew up in a happy home, and by the way they act no one would know that her and her step-family are not blood. She was a mostly B, but sometimes A, student in school. She was very popular in high school, and has keep up with her friends now that it is over. (Though in such a small town, it is difficult not to.) She enjoyed her home life in their three bedroom apartment and now rooms with her all-but-blood brother Michael. Not to say that she was a perfect child, as Naomi has smoked pot since she was 15. Having been moved out for 4 years, and with her brother the entire time, Naomi and her brother share the same group of mixed aged friends, and they always have. She's always been the girl that parents wish were their child.

    What brought them to their home?: When her father married his second wife they moved to Alaska.

    Example of a Reply:
    Story Written Example:
    A New Reality
    When you think you're dead, waking up is rather surprising. When you think you're a prisoner, a terrorist, to your nation, waking up with your mother and her husband on one side, your brothers on the other, is also rather surprising. That's what happened though, and when I struggled to get myself up everyone rushed to help.
    "Sweetie, don't strain yourself," My mother said, pulling my blanket up and smoothing my hair. She spoke to me like I was a child, or broken, and I was neither.
    "What happened?" I asked, looking down at myself as I spoke. I was in the hospital, wearing a pair of light blue scrub pants and a white thermal sweater. I felt groggy, but when I looked up at the mirror that served as a striped divider on the opposing wall I noticed that I didn't look it. My hair was still in it's clean ponytail and my lightly made up face looked perfectly 'natural'. No wonder he had looked at me like he did, I was a porcelain doll. That's why my mother worried so much that I sat up. I didn't look strong, I looked weak and helpless.
    "Oh honey," My mother said, her and my father looking at each other with concern. "The doctors aren't sure, though it's obvious that that Supernatural man did something to you."
    "What-" I exclaimed, that wasn't what happened, and if they blamed him for hurting someone in High Class then they would execute him (somehow) faster.
    "Well obviously, mother," My other brother said with a tone that I knew meant to shut up. He was also older than me, 24 years old and a young member of the newspaper. He and I had been close for years. I had even considered telling him about the Sight. I never had, of course, but the point remained; we were close.
    He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt (I'm sure he was amused by it, as it was a plain white t-shirt with a carrot drawn on the front) and yet he spoke with such understanding and intelligence. "The most important part is that she is fine now."
    "What about him?" I asked, a stupid question, but if they thought I was under his thrall then I would be safe. Right?
    "Anya," My brother, the one who stood on the podium and watched me make a fool of myself, spoke. He was still in his presentation attire, but he wasn't wearing the jacket and his identification on his forearm (28, Mark Heshinel, High Class- Government Worker) could clearly be seen. "Do you even know that Supernatural's name?"
    "Oh, uh," I replied. No, I did not, and I never had. Names weren't particularly easy to figure out in the Sight, unless someone spoke something.
    My mother's husband spoke, "Oh Anya, it's terrible to see you like this." He looked at me like a father, and I sighed. I felt no connection to him, despite the fact that he raised me. Yes, I liked him, I guess. He was pleasant, had never beat me, and all of that hoo-hah. I worried about my Supernatural blood when I thought of this, worried why I was so cold.
    I sighed, I couldn't very well tell them what was going on, and if I did it would somehow be his fault, I was sure of it. So, for now, I kept my mouth shut.
    The nurse from before walked in. She was wearing the normal uniform, white scrubs and red colored font for her identification tattoo. 26, Ria Jones, Lower Class Nurse. Lower Class was striked out, either she married up or she worked her way up. Nurses, doctors, teachers, they were all a class of their own and were granted the respect that people so integral to society should have. Her brown hair was in a clip, out of her face, and she wore no make up. Still, she was pretty.
    "Hi Ms. Jones," Mark said with a smile. "How are you?"
    "I'm doing good, thanks," She smiled at him and her blue eyes twinkled ever so slightly. Mark had that effect on women, always had. "Okay Ms. Heshinel, most of your vitals seemed to have returned to normal, but your caffeine levels are much much above average. Also, it is almost time for your eye check up so we're going to keep you overnight and check up on all of that at once." She looked up from her clipboard and I smiled as a thanks. "Also, we're going to have to have you interact with Supernatural 852695." At my confusion she gave me a pitied look, "The man who overtook you in the auditorium. We need to further study his thrall on you, but there will be a doctor there and he will not be able to harm you."
    How could I? I hadn't even considered this course of action, that they find him useful and use him. That they study him, keep him captured until they use him up and throw him down the trash chute. My eyes spilled silent tears as I worried about what they were doing to him right now. What were they doing to him? I didn't want to imagine him in pain. With a stunning realization it occurred to me that I had already seen this, a nightmare about 3 years ago. My tears flowed freely now, the pain he was in...
    "Oh, baby girl," Ms. Jones, the nurse, said while sitting next to me on the bed. "Shh, shhh, they won't let him hurt you, I promise."
    I didn't correct her on my fear, because it would simply do more damage and I couldn't help but cry.
    She stayed for a while but the nurse had things to do, so she left me in the hands of my mother, her husband, my older brother Mark, and my other older brother James. No one seemed to know what to say or do, but everyone was distraught.
    What have I done? If anyone were going to stop this genocide, they aren't going to now... I was becoming a martyr for the bad side. That was just it though, they weren't the bad side. They provided jobs, food, transportation, identification, order. They provided what we as a society needed- a society! The government was truly a gift that we all gave to ourselves by cooperating and working together to make a better world.
    I looked out the not shut door as my family watched the news channel. Nurses and doctors walking around, patients, families, even two year olds with tattoos covering their right forearm and left hip. This was a mecca of health. Somewhere in here though was pain and suffering- purposeful pain and suffering. To 'learn' to 'understand', it was easy to mock when it was a loved one.
    That was it though, I didn't love him. Heck, I didn't even know his name. What type of Supernatural was he? No idea. Was he leading a rebellion? Possible, likely, but I had no personal knowledge on the subject. I didn't know this man, how could I feel so strongly about him? Of course, I knew the answer to that question. He was my future, my life, just not yet. He didn't know that though, he didn't know what he was going through all of this for.
    Of course, maybe I was being presumptuous. It wasn't like the government was doing all of this to spite our future relationship. They were doing this because of the Supernatural threat. A real and valid reason. Still, my heart seemed to hurt at the thought of him in pain. Just the thought, not even the memory brought on by Sight. When I closed my eyes, that's when I saw it happening. I didn't want to, but the Sight did, and so I saw a live preview of his pain everytime I closed my eyes.
    "Can I get a Red Bull?" I asked when the nurse came by, It was 11PM and I could no longer keep my eyes open, but closing them was not an option. I had a couple of caffeine hours before I could no longer resist. I was going to make the most of them.
    "Oh," The nurse said. It was the same nurse, Ms. Jones, with the bun hair and pretty eyes. "Sweetie, you can't have any caffeine right now."
    "But I can't sleep," I said, trying to explain to her that I couldn't do it, sleeping, seeing, was not an option.
    "You need to sleep," She said. "We're monitoring you, so there's nothing to worry about."
    "No, I-I can't, you don't understand," I said, groggy and happy that my family was long gone. The nurse smiled and stood up, grabbing one of the shots and putting the marker thick stick next to my arm, pressing the button, and watching as the air shot the medicine into me.
    "Go to sleep, sweetie, it'll be better soon," She said, watching as I was unwillingly knocked out.

    "Are you going to tell us?" He asked, a taller man with a bald head and dark brown eyes. He was wearing a pair of slacks and a black button up, looking very fearsome. "How you encaptured Ms. Anya Heshinel?"
    He glared, sitting in a metal chair that was welded to the floor. Metal chairs didn't usually look comfortable, but his ankles and wrists were bound to the chair so it looked even more so.
    "Not only," He said, sounding esasperated in the man who wouldn't accept what he said. Somehow, even in this terrible condition, he was managing to be a petty smart ass. "Do I have no idea who this 'Anya' is," He pronounced my name funny. It was more like An(d)ya than the usual Anya. "But if I did, I would not tell you."
    "Why?" The interviewer asked, his identification notifying to all his name to be Davis Jones. "Is she some pet project of yours? Some perverted game? She's a good girl damn it and you're messing with her head."
    "What I don't understand is how you can honestly believe that I have a skill that you don't know about that allows me to control some girls mind." He said, "I live in camera controlled barracks, go through state mandated medical reviews every month, and have every single bit of my life in your records. When would I develop such a skill? Why would I bother? Also, how would your
    perfect bloody government miss that?"
    He was raising doubt against the government, and had clearly put some thought into it. It angered Davis Jones.
    "If you're going to be this useless we're going to leave you tied down for the rest of your natural- sorry,
    unnatural- born life." He said, somehow glaring more harsh now. There was true hate in his eyes, his voice, and the way he acted.
    "I can't tell you anything!" The Supernatural yelled, "Check my records, you know
    everything about me. I have no thrall or control over this 'Anya'," Again, he pronounced my name as if there were a silent D. "and after all of this trouble, I really have no desire to."
    "Oh, of course, you wouldn't try and taint the good humanity in her," Davis Jones said. "Your kind never does that, never causes innocent children to die!"
    "Let's get one thing straight, ass-wad," He, Supernatural 852695, said with a violent tone to his voice. "You are the ones killing innocent children, you are the ones terrified of the power that these half-humans have, and you are the ones causing all of this pain."
    David spoke very calmly now, "No-one knows what these fledglings will turn into, and they have disastrous uncontrollable power as children, growing up for them will never be the same, it is better to die."
    "What, it's better to die than to have super powers?" Supernatural 852695 scoffed, "Your logic is sound, there is nothing more I can say."
    He sat quiet for a second before Davis Jones lost his control and punched him square in the face. "There is so much more to it than that, and if you taint or harm or even touch Anya I will personally make you suffer, you should be praying that she hadn't been taken by you this afternoon."
    Supernatural 852695 grinned, it was a sexy grin, a smirk of a grin, "What, afraid of the competition?"
    Davis Jones hit him again, hard in the middle of the face. Again right below the ribs, and he just kept going.


    "No!" I screamed as I woke up, sweating and shaking. I looked at the clock, it was almost 7AM, and before I headed to the restroom I tried to lower the rate that I took oxygen in. I drank some of the lemon water by my bed and I sighed, rubbing my face stressfully. I wondered when it was from, was it live? Was it not yet occurred, or had it happened last night and he was still sitting in the cold metal chair with a bloody, bruised body?
    I went to the bathroom, using it before taking a quick shower and brushing my teeth. I put my hair up, in a clip and inspected myself in the mirror. My eyes were baggy, despite the shot the sleep I had gotten last night was less than resting. My hair was frazzled, through its wet mess I knew I was going to have a bad hair day. I didn't worry about that though, nothing could be worse than the introduction I had to him the day before.
    I went back to my bed then, sitting in and noticing that my breakfast (orange juice, toast, and eggs) was waiting for me. I munched it as I watched the news, wondering if it were going to be the same or if the whole world had truly flipped around like it felt it had. The news was normal, weather and traffic reports (as per usual, no real traffic). It seemed to make a mockery of whatever the hell was going on here.
    The nurse came in and frowned at my food, "You need to eat." She said, coming up to me and putting a medical tool at my right wrist. She checked my vitals, pulse, blood sugar, etc. She gave a bright smile as she read the information off of her tablet. "Good news, the caffeine is out of your system. Blood pressure and pulse are a little elevated, but you're nervous so that's to be expected..." She moved the tool to my eyes, puffing a burst of air and light at them to read the information. "Your eyes are a little better," She said with a 'yay!' tone to her voice, she gave me a fond warning look. "The caffeine is definitely not helping to keep your sight around for any longer."
    I gave her a sheepish look, I knew all of the caffeine I had been downing was bad for me. It was better than the dreams, the sights.
    She continued checking me over, murmuring something about lost weight probably being due to the stress of the Supernatural messing with me. I sighed, he was getting blamed for so much. All because little Anya Heshinel, a good girl in a good High Class family, had a flip out. I never wanted to meet him this way, I never wanted to cause him, or anyone else for that matter, any trouble. Honestly, a part of me just wanted it all to be a dream. FOr me to go to sleep at night without viewing the truth.
    "Well you look good to go," She said with a perkiness that made it clear that she, at least, had had caffeine. "I'll lead you to the doctors now."
    I bit my lip nervously, not really wanting to do this. She was perfectly nice about it, so I knew there was no need to worry. He wasn't going to hurt me, I knew that. Still, I worried how my presence could even not make it worse. I wished my thermal sweater was longer, but then they would just have to keep pulling it up to check my vitals and my identification. Still, all of the sudden I felt cold, and wanted nothing more than back under the pale blue comforter and thick white knitted top blanket over that.
    She seemed to know that there was nothing she could do to make me feel better. She grabbed my hand lightly and led me there, doing her best to comfort me. By the lack of people staring at me, it was becoming apparent that my actions hadn't hit the news. I was grateful for that. It was going to be bad enough, facing my fellow classmates, my family, and my teachers. Assuming you come out of this alive.. I thought to myself, worried beyond compare.
    I had always known that the concerns my friends and family had were minor. Quizzes, tests, how they look at work- minor in comparison to hiding something like the Sight. Minor in comparison to not knowing if you would wake up tomorrow. Minor in comparison to worrying about what your body was going to do next.
    Because that was the thing, wasn't it? In my sight before, Supernatural 852695 was right: no one knew how much power half-humans had. No half-human had ever lived to 2, much less 20, as far as anyone knew that was. I could wake up one day actually blind. I had no idea if it was my Sight blurring what everyone saw of my eyes, or if it was the disorder that blinded my uncle simply working slower due to my young age and Supernatural blood.
    "Here we are," She said, stopping outside the door. She gave me a hug, she's very touchy, isn't she? I thought before heading in. Inside there was a police officer and a Doctor. The police officer, Davis Jones, was the same as before. There was blood on his first and my face paled, which he seemed to notice.
    "Oh, I'm sorry," He said, grabbing a wipe from the doctor's cart to clean his hand. "The Supernatural wasn't cooperating, but he will be fine for you."
    The doctor looked at Davis Jones, rolling his eyes as the police officer flustered to keep himself clean. The true worry, a worry I had not had in a long time, was what I hadn't seen. No blood had been spilled in my sight, what had I missed? What had happened?
    "Hi, I'm Dr. Travis," He said, speaking to me very honestly. "I want to tell you a few things before you head in there.:
    I nodded, appreciating the information. What do they have on record that I haven't seen? That they'll tell me, at least, I don't suppose they think I need to know anymore, and they're right.
    "For starters, Supernatural 852695 is 'supernatural' in that he reads current thoughts," Dr. Travis said. "He can't read anything other than the thoughts you think, your train of thought so to speak. Still, that is a valid skill, and you need to be aware of it." I nodded, it was a valid skill, I found myself almost jealous. Though, if the Sight isn't all that great, is hearing any better? It's got to suck to never be lied to.
    "Because of this we're not recording your conversation or listening in, he would know if we are and we're counting on you to tell us what happens." He said, "I know this must be very difficult for you, but we need to know how much power over thought he has. If he is more than an observer it's important to know."
    I nodded, that made sense. The ability to manipulate thought would be massively impressive, and dangerous. It's possible that if he can manipulate thoughts, he put the Sight in your mind... I shook that thought away, the Sight was a part of me, a misbehaved and out of control part, but a part of me none the less.
    "We're hoping that whatever he has done with or to you will cause him to trust you, but if you at any point feel threatened press this button." He handed me a small clicker on a necklace and I put it on.
    "No worries," Davis Jones said, seemingly unaware of my (to be honest and fair) unwarranted but still passionate hate for him. "You press that button and I'll burst in and get you out of there."
    I nodded, whoop-de-do, Davis Jones wasn't impressive to me. He was a bully, that interrogation could have been done better (I knew as I had seen others in the past) but he felt the need to show off how big his imaginary balls were. Apparently I looked fairly mad, because Davis Jones was looking like a hurt puppy and Dr. Travis was laughing.
    "I'm sure it's a comfort," Dr. Travis said, "That it also emits a loud annoying sound, your ears will hurt as well but it'll keep him away until Officer Jones can come in." I nodded, keeping that in mind. At least it's not something that only fucks with the Supernatural... "Any questions?"
    I stood for a second, unsure, "What am I supposed to be doing?" Really, I wasn't sure what they were expecting out of me.
    "This is mostly to see how he reacts to seeing you," Officer Davis Jones said. "You've never met him before, so we can't get anything out of you." Oh, suave, kindly put Officer Jackass, I thought snidely. "We'll give you time in there, but in reality, we're trying to shake him up."
    I nodded and Dr. Travis gave me a smile (Officer Davis Jones a laugh he thought I didn't see) and opened the thick door. I squeezed my eyes shut, rationality leaving my brain, I can't see what they did to him, not when it's all my fault... When I heard the door shut, I jumped looking behind me and still not at him. Okay, calm down, he;s not gonna hurt you, if this is that sight he might fuck- okay not the time for those images. That was too late though, what I saw was memories (of the future) and it was flashing through my mind.
    He didn't say anything as I slowly turned around, taking deep breaths to calm myself. It's gonna be okay, how on earth would they figure it out just by you being in a room with no cameras? Oh shit, I've never been anywhere without cameras that wasn't a bathroom, and those are heat sensing ones....
    Nervous but not speaking, my mind seemed to decide it was going to think for me. Which is just bloody aces because he's quite possibly hearing all of this and just sitting there mocking me, which he should, and he's so cute when he- okay we, you, I, whatever has to remember not to think of that right now. He doesn't need to know that because of, well I'm sure there's a reason.
    I started to look at him, at the room. Same as before, I thought, minus the blood on the chair... The lights seemed brighter, no longer dimmed from the vision last night. Also, there was a table now and a pop up chair across from him. All of this and I still don't know his name. I sat down, the table was in pristine condition so either they cleaned it or put it in there recently. It wasn't here last night, or when I was 18, so I imagine they just moved it in. I kept referencing my previous Sights in my thoughts, which was unavoidable of course, but I mentally cursed each time.
    He was still tied up, his right shoulder and left jaw bloody. He was wearing (why had I not paid attention to this before? You probably wanted to assume he was naked... No! Self, stop that!) a blood stained white t-shirt, a pair of ratty jeans, and a pair of combat boots. I smiled at those, thinking of my black Doc Martens that I wore usually, the exception of course was when I was checked into the hospital. I wish I was wearing my face kicking shoes right now... Might be useful if Officer Jackass tries to talk to me again....
    I pulled my left sleeve down, as it was full lengthed, and went to wipe his face of the blood. I couldn't stand to see it on him, maybe I could ask him something. Like, what's your name?
    He jerked away, eyeing me with distrust. Still, he said nothing. Not quite fair, he can hear my thoughts... I thought to myself like a small child.
    "Oh let me clean your fucking face!" I yelled, glaring at him now. I was the angry one. I hadn't done anything intentionally, and all I was trying to do was help and he was being an asswad. He paused for a second, stilling all over and clenching his jaw. He let me clean his face though, so I guess he was getting better. Though, the petulant glare of a child that he gave me made it clear he didn't want to. Oh yeah, he's tied up. His wrists were red, and I was sure his ankles were the same under his boots. Without thinking I touched his wrists, he jerked again and glared at me like he'd very much like to tell me where I could put my hands. Is he going to talk to me?
    "What's a Supernatural like you doing in High Class?" He asked, "See, I can talk, but you seemed to know that about me already. So it's my turn, answer my question."
    He was commanding, for a man tied to a chair. I didn't mean that sarcastically, he was honestly commanding. I leaned back into my seat, my sleeve stained and his face still bloody. I hadn't done much good, and my guilt wasn't eased a fraction as a result. I probably hurt him more touching it then I did good cleaning, and I want nothing to do with causing him pain. Why is it that that seems to be all I can do?
    "What are you doing?!?" He yelled, "What is wrong with you?!? Why, why?"
    "I don't know," I replied, "And I am very sorry." I said, settling in the chair. What does Dr. Travis want me to do? What does... he want me to do? God damn it I love this man and don't know his fucking name!
    He jerked at the thought, and that was the first proof I got to his powers. Though, he knew I was a Supernatural, that could be a guess though. Years and years of Sight, and only now I know his power, and I still do not know his name!
    "You're sorry?" He asked, "Sorry?! Do you know what I've gone through? In the past 24 hours alone?"
    "YES!" I screamed, and it felt so amazing to get it out. To verbalize aloud what I had seen for years. To say to someone, anyone. With the release of that word, the admittance of what I had known forever, the tears came flowing freely. "I've known for so long, nightmares and daydreams of terror. The worst of it is.. the worst..." I couldn't speak anymore, I was crying too hard. The worst is that you don't even know who I am... You're going to be my life, if only I don't kill you first.
    He sighed, relenting if only a little, "James."
    "Hu?" I asked, wiping my eyes, it'll do no good to make Officer Fuckwad think he's made me cry.
    "My name, it's James, though I really cannot fathom why I give you any information when your thoughts are littered with me." He spoke in an effort to make me stop crying. I knew that. James, the name, it fits. "See, that, you know so much about me!"
    "Well it's not by choice," I said. "What can I do to make it better?" I asked, trying to better the situation that I knew I had caused. I know so much about him, he's right. His name, his power, his passion, his self, his body, so much, and he can't even pronounce my name.
    "Tell me how to pronounce your name?" He decided after a moment of thought. Is he getting to know me? Is this how it starts? "Stop!" He said, glaring, "How do I pronounce your name?"
    "An-ya," I said, "not A-nya."
    "An-ya," He pronounced, nodding and playing with the name.
    It sounds so sexy in his voice, I thought.
    He laughed, smiling a smile I had almost forgotten about. It is weird, to start a relationship like this. He laughed again, and I loved to make him smile. It was wonderful, after all of the pain I had seen him in, to see him genuinely happy. I remembered the happiness I saw in my Sight the day before.
    He laughed lightly, a comfort in him that I rarely saw. I was lying with him; we were under the covers enjoying a talk. We were in some sort of shack, the type of home that the Supernatural were used to. This I, with a pixie cut as messy as inch long hair could get, didn't seem to mind the filth.
    It was nice to be at peace for once, not worrying about the government or food. He kissed me lightly on the neck and I grinned, kissing him on the lips.
    "You're beautiful," He said, and I kissed him deeply. He rolled on top of me, the covers falling off. His naked body was on top of mine and we were in complete sync.
    The world faded away in the end, when I kissed his chest as he settled down. "I love you." I said, and it was clear that this was a first for me. He smiled back at me, "I love you too."

    "Well, your thoughts are..." James said, Can he see the Sight through me? "No, I can't, but your thoughts as you see this 'Sight'."
    It occurred to me that James, this man, was basically a stranger and he knew. My greatest secret. I had no control over what he could do with it, and I had no way to know if I was safe anymore.
    I jumped up and pushed myself against the wall, back flush against the cold wall. Scared, like an animal. It was over, everything. I was scared, more scared then I had been in my entire life. I felt the chill then, my eyes blurring and my ears ringing. No, no, no, no, not right now!
    "Anya?!?" He asked as I fell, I guess Mr. I-Know-Your-BIggest-Secret doesn't know everything huh?! I thought sarcastically as I fell.
    "Run!" Officer JackAss yelled at me, "Or they'll capture you."
    "Oh shut up, Officer Jack Ass," I screamed back, "I have to stay, to fight!"
    "Fight?" He exclaimed, walking to me and grabbing my hand. "You're beaten raw, your power cannot save you now!"
    "James!" I yelled at him, we were in the city during a riot. There was fire, screams, burning flesh. It was pure and utter chaos. Blood painted the walls, 'DOWN WITH THE LIARS, DOWN WITH THE GOVERNMENT!' "I cannot leave him behind! The Government will kill him!" My eyes teared up, and I pulled my hand to my face, a ring on my wedding finger. I was aged, but the scars were on still tight skin.
    "James doesn't want you dead!" Officer Jack Ass said. "Look, I know you don't like me, and I know I've been harsh to James, but if you go over there both of you will die. The rebellion will die and we will return to where we were."
    I was crying now, no longer paying attention to those around me. Running citizens, animals, none of them mattered. "What's so bad with that? Why can't we go back to that?"
    "Could you go back?" Davis asked, "To the control, to the lies, to the fear, to the containment of your people?!"
    "I'll be a slave to the Government before I see him dead!" I screamed, and everything paused. It didn't matter. The world was falling apart.
    "He will die before he loses this cause!" Davis, now with his hands strong on my shoulders. "And if you're the woman I fell in love with you will too!"
    I stood straighter now, "I can't do this without him. It doesn't matter if I am a full Fledgling or if I have a thousand people on my side. I would be nothing without him,
    nothing!" With the scream Officer Jack Ass seemed to falter.
    "You are so much more!" He said, "And if you can't see that, I'll have to make you, and when James get's free he'll thank me!"
    With a swift knock to the head and a shot to my stomach, not far above my identification tattoo on my hip, I passed out.



    Role Play Written Example:(Taken from "With Love S.S." roleplay.)
    "Good morning Mommy!" Marie, happily running and jumping atop Naomi, exclaimed. Her bright blonde hair curling lightly and shining brightly in the sunlight. Her eyes were sparkling with the unadulterated smile of innocence. "Wake up wake up wake up!"

    Naomi smiled, despite what other moms said, despite what Michael said, she loved mornings like this. Mornings that started with her beautiful daughter (with beautiful blonde hair that she could only silently miss) and her joy. She sat up in her bed, in her beautiful home, and put her arms around her daughter, hugging her tightly and not letting go. She couldn’t help but focus for a minute on how happy she was. She needed to treasure these moments.

    "Good morning sweetie," Naomi said, finally letting go of her now mildly annoyed daughter. She watched as her daughter got up and then sat down criss-cross across from her. "How has your morning been?"

    As her daughter went into the story of her morning, speaking as one would expect an almost two year old to, Naomi um-hummed along as she climbed out of bed and walked into her bathroom to get ready for the day. Michael usually didn't take care of Marie in the mornings, but today he was not working until the night to work on the servers in their down peak time. So, while Michael had made Marie pancakes and let her taste a sip of the 'gross' coffee, she had slept in.

    "Sweetie why don't you go finish your eggs?" Michael, having just appeared, asked their daughter with an amused grin. "You're not gonna like them cold."

    "Michael, she can't get into her booster seat alone." Naomi said, giving Michael a warm smile before kissing him briefly. "If you get her I'll be out in a sec, I've gotto get changed."

    "No you don't," Michael said, grabbing her hand lightly as she turned away. "It'll be fine, really."

    "You know, I do," Naomi said. "Please?"

    Michael smiled but rolled his eyes as if she was missing something fairly obvious. He raised his hands up in defeat and then picked up their daughter, "Okay, but you owe me."

    Naomi smiled, getting changed then into her jeans and yellow floral top with no sleeves. She did her makeup and put her shoes on. When she finished she looked in the mirror, happy with how she looked. She looked forward to taking Marie to the park today, as Marie loved the park and it was a bright and beautiful day. She heard her phone buzz and expected it to be her friend, Rosalin, who was meeting her with her son at the park. When it wasn't she put her hand up to her mouth when she gasped, no, it's not possible!

    "Michael!"


    Example of Schedule: I usually post very fast on weekdays during the day, but I do not currently have a computer at home so replys during non-work time will be infrequent and typed on an iPad or phone.



     
    • You Get a Cookie You Get a Cookie x 1




  5. Ⓦ ⓘ ⓣ ⓗ ⓘ ⓝ Ⓣ ⓗ ⓔ Ⓑ ⓤ ⓑ ⓑ ⓛ ⓔ

    GENERAL
    Full Name: Royce C. Volkov
    Nickname(s): Roy
    Title/Occupation: Paranoid Guard
    Age: 37 Y/o
    Nationality: Russian

    PREFERENCE
    Sex/Gender: Cis-Gendered Male
    Preferred Pronoun(s): He/Him or They/Them
    Romantic/Sexual Orientation: Pansexual/Panromantic

    RELATIONSHIPS
    Family: Son to Adrian Volkov (63) and Clara Orlov (59). Both are live in Russia, Moscow, in their last years of working. They tend to call Royce once twice a week to check up on their son. His parents are both paranoid about their son's welfare.
    Friends: Has a few friends here and there. (Open to brew up a friendship with anyone)

    PHYSICAL APPEARANCE
    Description: Royce is often complimented or praised of his leaned and toned body build. But besides the comments they usually first notice his long brown hair with a shade lighter highlights. He often styles his hair, but procrastination usually leaves him having it tied up. His complexion is fair, he barely goes out to soak in the sun's rays (if there is any). There are blemishes nor noticeable pores; though, he does have a few notable scars on the stomach. A thick fine vertical line. Other than that, he has big beautiful blue doe eyes framed with long thick black lashes. His feminine eyes are usually commented as 'beautiful', which he gets flustered. Lastly, his notable chin and his jawline beard and goatee. He doesn't shave, he trims it, then sculpts it to the way he wishes them to be.
    Height: 6'1" Ft
    Weight: 171 Lbs
    Body Build: Toned muscles and lean.
    Notable Physical Traits: His lengthy hair and his chin.

    MENTALITY & PYSICHALITY
    Phobia(s): A horrid fear of specters.
    Mental Disease(s): Delusional Disorder - People with this illness have a delusion (a false, fixed belief) involving real-life situations that could be true, such as being followed, being conspired against, or having a disease.
    When and how was this diagnosed?: He was diagnosed at the age of 21 Y/o.
    Physical Disease(s): N/a
    When was this diagnosed and/or how did it happen?: At the age of 21 Y/o, Royce suffered from Delusional Disorder. At first he assumed that he was simply 'seeing things', as most people put it off. Truthfully he became delusional throughout his life, it tend to break relationships, and people suffered. His friendship circle was scarce. There was no broad event that impacted this. Supposedly, the doctors reckoned it, that it just happened. Royce now takes pills daily to reduce the hallucinations.

    FACTOIDS
    Skills: Able to subdue a person, styles hair and facial hair, and paint (rather disturbing array of colors usually).
    Hobbies: Sculpting ducks out of bars of soap, patrolling, and boxing.
    Likes: Comedies, supernatural documentaries, his hair braided, people with long hair, putting his finger through gages, understanding people (people who believe in specters), and Italian food.
    Dislikes: Being alone in dark places, spectrums, supernatural events, the feeling of being watched, grapefruit, alcohol, Asian accents, southern accent, and watching horror films.
    Biography: Born into a family with high expectations Royce managed to hit all the high points. He managed to get the best grades in school and did the best in boxing. His father would never share a smile with Royce nor a single praise -- but, that didn't mean he didn't love his father. It was all for the sake of doing well and being the best. His mother, on the other hand, loved Royce to death. Simple because he was an only child. During his high school years, his father and mother conceived a boy. His mother was quick to decide the name, Raymond. Little Raymond is what Royce called him. After Raymond was born and a four years passed Raymond died of food poisoning; all while Royce was supervising. Quickly Royce ran away from home. He shortly received his hallucinations and paranoia. He barely ate for a year and constantly scrutinized his meals till they were no longer appetizing. He eventually picked up an appetite, but he could never relieve himself of seeing Raymond's helpless body on the chair. With the pills, he's been taking his hallucinations gradually lessens but he could always find a way to catch a glimpse of a child's body in front of him as he eats his meals.
    What brought them to their home?: Moved to Alaska for a fresh new start.

    Example of a Reply: "Now if you turn to page ten we will..."

    The words drowned out. They were remnants vaporized into thin air -- unimportant, completely disregarded. Sky blue eyes wandered around the room. They stared blankly at the middle-aged man, she stared at the top of his head. His hair was in the process of thinning, thin strands of hair were constantly found in the peripheral of his desk. The constant shedding brought the students in the front row to become squeamish at the sight of hair. It began to grow comical, especially for Nancy. She found herself snickering alongside a few other girls in the classroom. She was uncertain whether her female companion brooded the same notion. She would glance back at Reviera numerous of times during incidents of squeamish classmates in search of a glimmer of amusement. Never have she witnessed the girl laughing. Nancy rolled her eyes as the teacher continued to lecture the students about quintessential counterparts of peculiar animals. Meticulous illustrations reciprocating well-known amphibians, the frog. The lectures grew longer each word.

    Nancy could feel her body becoming lethargic, her mindset focused on the students surrounding her. All students were females within the great Abington Institute of Excellence -- a prestigious school for opulent female students who exhibited great intelligence or skill. Many well-known daughters of great families are sent here, not through exhibiting great intelligence, but monetary persuasion. Nancy had the persistent thought as to how she landed herself in the school. She pestered herself with idiotic inquiries till class was over.

    "Ms. Lane!" The deep gruff voice snapped abruptly. Nancy turned her attention over to the male teacher, Mr. Graham. "Pay attention or I will be forced accord you with severe punishment." He dark eyes glared at her. Nancy's body was still as a statue. Her eyes fixated on the teacher not allowing her eyes to drift away. Mr. Graham turned around picking up a dusty concrete chalk and began to write on the board. At the sight of his back, Nancy rolled her eyes and let out a puff of air out of irritation. She glanced over at Riviera, rolling her eyes in a denigrating way directed at Mr. Graham. Her denigrating tom-foolery was caught by a few other female students who uttered out a soft giggle. Quickly, Nancy turned to the front meeting eye to eye with Mr. Graham. The two exchanged glares of their own. Surprisingly the cruel teacher did nothing of the sorts. She returned her attention to the book, flipping through the pages passing by illustrations that grew more intricate to detail each page.

    Passing by an hour a loud noise from afar. The entire classroom was shaken by the foreign sound. Nancy looked around the room frantically glancing at the faces of scared girls. The teacher stood there frozen with his jaw hanging, the dubious terrors outside left everybody scared, breathless, or anxious.

    The doors of the classroom were busted open revealing a familiar teacher. "Mr. Graham, take the girls to the basement!" He ordered. Mr. Graham was shaken, but the teachers order brought him back to the dreaded reality. "A-alright! Come! This way!" Mr. Graham gesticulated everybody to exit the facilities. One by one, each girl rushed out in disarray. Nancy ran out alongside her classmates, the class jumbled out of the classroom pulling Nancy away from her friend. She turned to search for Reviera -- but -- the girls kept her figure hidden. She cursed under her breath before running into the hallways. There was a teacher each meter of the hallways yelling the same thing over and over again. "Walk! Don't run!" or "Exit in a fashionably ordered line!" Nancy felt her body being pushed side to side by girls reaching for a safe haven. She strides forward not looking back for Reviera anymore. She wanted to live, even if it was selfish of her.

    The sea of students was led passed the West wing and into the East wing where held the staircase leading down to the basement. The right-hand man of the headmaster was beside the staircase opening the door for the students leading them down. Nancy was far from the door. She continued to stride forth but her body was constantly pushed back or side to side, creating strenuous obstacles. "Get out of the way!" Nancy snapped shrugging off a girl aggressively, making her way down to the staircase.

    Her foot stepped on the step a new world leaked out. A dark tunnel going below a darkened room. A lump in her throat made its presence evident when she swallowed. She began to slowly walk down. Each step she took she grew more prudent -- one step would cause a domino collision. Female students voice echoed in the room letting their conversation broadcasted to the other trembling girls. Behind their roaring voice was the raging sounds of bombs from afar. Nancy felt scared, she wished for Riviera to be beside her. She was the only girl Nancy could find herself vulnerable. For now in front of the student body she plastered on a facade; she was a tough nut, an infamous girl with no heart. She bit her lip as she took another step. Her teeth pressed down against the soft flesh almost ripping through the flesh. Her teeth ripped the skin surfacing blood. The taste of iron filled her mouth, a nasty taste. She sucked in her lower lip taking in the metallic taste. A shine of light became visible to Nancy. The ground became visible, the sight washed over a wave of relief.

    The students rushed over to the safe haven along with Nancy. Once her feet touched the spacious wide space she scurried over to a place to sit. She sat against the wall nearby the staircase, watching girls flow into the basement searching for friends. The basement was only so big; eventually it will get cramped.

    "Where are you Riviera?" She thought in worry.

    Students came in pouring crying at the sight of close friends. A few girls sat beside Nancy attempting to start a conversation with the intimidating girl. She didn't utter a sound leaving the other party disappointed. Instead, she stared at the staircase watching girls come in. After ten or fifteen girls, she finally caught the sight of her beloved friend. Nancy quickly raised her hand up high not getting up from her seat in fear of it being taken away by a greedy girl. "Riviera! Riviera!" She called out loud, breaking the sound of surrounding girls. By the time, Riviera noticed her and managed to find her way through the hordes of girls Nancy quickly began to release a chatty girl.

    "Can you believe it? A war already? I wonder who did it. Don't you?" Her words slurred due to speaking too quickly. Throughout the sea of girls she managed to listen in on one girls conversation. "I heard it's the Germans coming to attack us." One girl hushed. "Really?" Another inquired. "Mhm, my father told me it could be them. I'm not sure why but I'm sure the professors will let us know." The girl reassured. "I hope so."

    Nancy bit her inner cheeks. The crowd of girls let out either gossip, muffled cries, or negativity. The teachers comforted the girls who were crying and the headmaster stood by the staircase with his righthand man. Sky blue orbs couldn't help but stare at the girls crying. "I wonder whats happening..." She said softly. Nancy leaned against the wall coolly pretending to be nonchalant. "What do you wish to speak about? I cannot find myself straying away from the war but I suppose we can try." She looked back at Riviera and gave her a thin smile.

    In spite of the nonchalant acts Nancy was well-aware of her true feelings towards the attack -- she wanted to cry rivers, she wanted to go home.

    Example of Schedule: Throughout the summer I will be busy and then not busy. My schedule fluctuates here and there. I will post at least twice or once a week, at the most once a day. If I will be gone the whole day I'll definitely PM you!




     
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