Post by oliver logan on Jan 5, 2008 14:24:39 GMT -5
Hello! My name is { kasey ![/color]” He had whispered in her ear. She remembered the way his warm breath tickled her neck. How his tone had been sincere, yet that boyish edge smoothed it out. How she shuddered when he dragged his lips over her collarbone, kissing it as lightly as possible. And then she boarded the plane, and that was that. A few tears began to press at the corners of Adriana’s eyes, but she blinked them away before they could ruin her thick, dark makeup. It would only be a few months before things healed back home. Once the smoke cleared, then she could go back. She could go back and be with Tyler. But a dreadful feeling in her stomach was making her fantasy less and less believable. A sudden vibrating stirred Adri from her thoughts; it was coming from her pocket. In one swift movement, she pulled a Sidekick phone from her pants. Her eyes slid to the caller id: Tyler. Without another thought, she answered. “Hello?” A relieved sigh greeted her on the other end. “Adri,” Came a husky voice. Adri sat up in an instant, suddenly alert and quite awake. “Tyler!” She said breathlessly, brushing some frost from her knee. “I called you the other day.” Adriana’s words seemed to dawdle between furious and love struck. Tyler sensed the tension in her tone and breathed a quiet exhale. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. Everything is just crazy right now.” Adri swallowed what felt like a hundred needles. She had completely forgotten the mess she had gotten Tyler into. The familiar guilt flushed in her throat at the reminder. “Oh,” she stammered, “are things any… any better?” It was inevitable by Tyler’s mood that nothing had changed, but she asked anyway. She wanted to hear it from him, instead of her suspicions. Her conscience was never a good thing to trust, hence the shit she was into right now. There was a long pause before Tyler replied. “Not really.” He confessed finally with a tight voice. “He’s still asking for you.”
I am { 15.
I have been roleplaying for { 2 or 3 years... i dunno i lose track a lot. xD , and here is a sample post of mine.
Sample: from adriana.
Seattle was the last place anyone would expect to find Adriana. In all honesty, it was last place she wanted to be. But a clean slate was a clean slate, and if she ever wanted her old life in New York back, then Seattle was home sweet home; although, she had no actual home to speak of. Yet. And with the night thickening, temperatures were plummeting into the negatives. A park bench would be the luxury tonight, if anything at all. A soft moan of despair indicated that the figure curled up on one of the benches was indeed alive. Adriana was no spoiled brat, but she wasn’t exactly thrilled to be homeless in Seattle, Washington. There were always jokes that the sun never shone there, but it was fucking true. She hadn’t seen a ray of light since she arrived, four days ago. The hotel she had broken into wasn’t very sympathetic to her situation, and the bed and breakfast she had tried was booked solid. This weekend, Seattle was full of relatives who had come to visit for the holidays. According to Adriana, they were wearing out their welcome. Because of the damn grandparents, she didn’t have a warm bed to sleep on. Instead, she had a nice little bench with a potential blizzard as her suite. She was exhausted from all of her stressing, but believe it or not, falling asleep on snow was easier said than done.
The fur lining of Adri’s plushy jacket had offered warmth at first, but after the temperatures dropped it was practically useless. She may as well have been topless. As for her skin-tight jeans, they weren’t holding up too well, either. The stonewashed color was turning dark from the falling snow, and the way they hugged tight at the ankle presented no comfort at all. Her feet were faring more poorly than the other freezing parts of her body; the black plastic ballet flats she had decided to wear were more fashionable than they were functional. First of all, wearing stiff plastic chafes like hell. And secondly, there was no insulation as far as flats go. Adriana turned on her side so that she faced the spine of the bench, and drew up the hood of her jacket. Peering through the gaps in the wood, she had a pretty good view of the park. She had to admit that it was pretty nice, but that’s all that could be said about it. It was… Seattlish. That was her new word lately. The people, the food (well, one candy bar) the stores, the pets, the trees; they were all so Seattlish. It wasn’t a bad thing, it was just not what Adri was used to. Seattle was like Manhattan in a way, but the ethics seemed different. You don’t see twenty-year-old girls sleeping on benches in Manhattan, right? You hardly ever see a gum wrapper on the street there. But here it was a little more laid back. Despite popular and intimate belief, Adriana was little by little becoming to favor the city. It was a slow process, though. You’d have better chances of progress watching paint dry.
When Adri had left Manhattan, Tyler had promised her that everything would be okay. “You’re strong. You’ll make it.
It figured. Kaleb was persistent in his desires, and his desire to have Adriana murdered had nearly been fulfilled. Well, it was her fault for sleeping with Tyler, who just so happened to be Kaleb’s boyfriend. Forbidden fruit is always more tempting, though. She didn’t even know what happened. It was a quiet night consisting of chocolate ice cream and Legally Blonde, the two friend’s usual Wednesday night. Then it progressed into a therapy session when Adri broke down about her life and all of the wild things in it. The way that Tyler comforted her just seemed to arouse her heart. That was what she had been looking for. That was what she needed. He was right there! In front of her! How could she possibly have passed him up, especially in his tight-fitting Pikachu jammies? There was no way. One thing led to another, and the next thing she knew, she was naked in Tyler’s arms. Not a bad place to be, actually, but Tyler’s boyfriend thought otherwise. Kaleb, Adri’s ex, had quite the temper when he was off his meth. A punch, a scream, and there was blood leaking from Adriana’s mouth. Tyler shouted for her to run, so she did. To Seattle. She didn’t leave right then, though. It took another few fights involving blood and guns and a jealous boy until Tyler begged her to go before she was killed. He told her to go as far away as possible, where Kaleb wouldn’t find her. Seattle seemed like a reasonable place, and the tickets were on sale. So Seattle it was. And with her broken family’s fortunes in tow, Adriana was sitting pretty. Well, from the outside, at least.
“Where are you?” Adri asked nervously. Kaleb had been a little abusive to Tyler lately, too, according to updates from her friend Hana. But Tyler didn’t know that she was aware of that. “I’m in Tribeca, don’t worry. He’s at home crashing.” Adriana sighed in relief, running a hand through her jet black extensions. “How is he acting with you?” Again, another long pause. Adri heard her friends’ laughter in the background, and she suspected that they were probably out drinking. Tyler sounded sober, but he also sounded like he had smoked not too long ago. Alcohol plus weed equals Tyler in the ER. “Rough.” He replied quickly. There was the sound of gritting teeth, and then of Hana shouting slurred words. Adri rubbed her face with her free hand, groaning under her breath. “What happened?” She demanded, heart pounding against her chest. Half of her wanted to know what Kaleb had been up to around Tyler, but the other half knew it was probably better left unsaid. Reluctantly, however, Tyler complied. “A few bruises. Nothing serious.[/color]” Adriana choked back a sob. How anyone could ever hurt someone so beautiful was beyond her. “I’m coming home.” She said shakily, rising to her feet. A few ounces of snow dropped from her body onto the sidewalk. “Wha—No. Adri, I swear to God, if you even think about coming back here…[/color]” Adriana smirked in a sad sort of way. Worry still lingered in her silver eyes; the smirk was more of a dark humor sort of thing. So what if she went home? Kaleb would probably beat her to death when Tyler wasn’t around to defend her. She wouldn’t stop him, either. “You’re an Atheist.” Adri stated in an arrogant voice, the smirk broadening to a mild grin. The grin held a wall of helplessness in place of happiness, though. “Stay in Seattle, Adriana. I’m serious. I can’t risk anything with you.” Adri’s heart fell seven stories into her stomach; that was the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to her. Actually, she had heard nicer things said in her favor before, but Tyler really meant it. She could tell. “Are you staying somewhere?” Adriana frowned. Tyler meant well, but he didn’t need to worry about anyone other than himself, let alone her. “Yeah. A bed and breakfast.” She turned her head to the right, staring down the busy street where the actual bed and breakfast, supposedly booked, rested. “Good. I have to go. Stay safe. No planes.” Tyler hung up without letting Adri say goodbye. But he sounded relieved, and that was all that mattered to her.
Adri stared at the screen of her phone for another ten minutes or so, staring at her wallpaper of Tyler sticking out his tongue. The labret piercings above and below his lip twinkled in the bad lighting, and the faint outline of Hana flashing the peace sign could be seen in the background. With a hopeless sigh, Adriana pocketed her phone again. The more she thought about home, the more she would miss it. She lowered herself onto the bench again, turning her toes into each other until her flats pressed against each other. Looking up, Adri realized she had skipped a major transition in the population of the park. While she had been talking with Tyler, almost everyone had left, save for two or three couples making out near the fountain or on the snow. Adriana’s lips twisted into a hateful scowl. “Fuck ‘em.” She muttered, trying to console herself. Even if things did go back to normal, then Tyler would never be hers. He loved Kaleb. And that’s just the way it was. Adri shook her head a few times, letting her hair breathe a little bit. She hadn’t washed it in days, and her weave was starting to get on her nerves. She twirled the ends of her fake hair, looking down to watch her fingers slide in and out of the jet black pieces. Remembering the top of her head, Adriana raised a hand to tease her caramel-colored layers. They had relaxed over the past few hours, leaving Adri looking less than hardcore. Even if she took out her comb and went to work on it, she didn’t have a mirror or hair products with her. Adriana brought her knees to her chest, hugging them tight and resting her chin at the top. To be honest, she was getting nervous. Middle-aged men were beginning to size her up from across the street, and if she ran, she was sure a few gangs might be interested in roughing her up. Yeah, it was all so Seattlish.[/font]
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{ oliver logan.
Name: oliver alexandre logan; also known as oli.
Age: 21
Gender: male
Sexual Orientation: bisexual
Social Standing: adult
Physical Appearance: eyes:
They say that eyes are the window to the soul. The proverb holds some truth, evident in Oliver’s eyes. Despite the pale silver color, darkness seems to lurk around the iris that is unexplainably a transparent sort of obscurity. Could it be that his fucked up past is locked away behind those large, soft grey eyes? True, they sparkle with every smile, but it’s easy to fake that. In all honesty, he’s never gotten over the stress, the angst and agony that followed his childhood. He’s kept it cached in the very backs of her mind, perhaps for a rainy day? However, whenever Oli throws a glance, it’s a little chilling. The thick, dark makeup surrounding his ghostly eyes brings out the almost zombie-like expression in them. Needless to say, it’s a little difficult to win a staring contest with Oliver.
hair:
Oliver’s hair can be viewed in two different ways; a ratty, dark mess, or an extraordinary display of cosmetology. The color is naturally reddish brown, but it is dyed jet black, which contrasts beautifully with his pale skin. It’s cut very short and choppy about an inch or two above the shoulder, with hardly any length in the back. The layers threaded over his crown allow her to easily tease and backcomb with a lasting result. Additionally, it is cut into soft, side-swept sidebangs, that can either cover his left eye or rest just above it. His hair really is a display of cosmetic perfection. Duh.
body:
Years and years of unwelcomed stress have taken their toll on Oli’s body many times in his life. Eating disorders have never been a problem, but often he would become so overwhelmed that eating just wasn’t an option. During his teenage years, Oliver’s weight dropped until he was lingering at a frightening ninety-two pounds. Over time, he has seemed to shake off his skeletal image and currently is at one-hundred-and-four pounds. Although he is dangerously thin, Oli’s long, beautiful curves fool many people. But the bones in the shoulders, his arms, and his boyish face are becoming more and more distinguishable. Sometimes he’ll go days without a meal, but will never go hungry. His unusually high metabolism doesn’t really help matters, either. Luckily, he doesn’t exercise, or else he might just disappear.
style:
The world “style” holds more meaning to Oliver than it would to most fashion designers. A day doesn’t go by where Oli isn’t constantly obsessing over his appearance, ripping through his closet to find the most flattering outfit. It doesn’t take long, though. He has an eye for fashion, and, according to many people, very good taste. Oliver’s vogue slants to a retro sort of feel. Anything with loud, vivid colors and gaudy designs are his kind of thing. It doesn’t bother him when people gape at his wearing blue-checkered skinny jeans, because generally he can pull off any look. He likes to wear jeans a lot, usually skin-tight ones that hug the ankles. Sometimes, however, he’ll go for stonewashed ripped flares, or maybe an edgy, black straight leg. Band tee’s have never really been Oliver’s flavor, but sometimes he likes to go about town flaunting his favorite bands: Enter Shikari, Drop Dead Gorgeous, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, Ambellina, etc. He tends to keep his tops simple, yet complex all in one. Self-designed tops are a favorite of his, as are tank tops and graphic tees. In colder weather, Oli wears Eskimo-like hoodies with an unbelievable amount of fur lining. Footwear, on the other hand, is no challenge at all. Oli’s favorite kind of shoe is his white and blue Puma sneakers, or his trusty red high-top converses, sometimes in a bright red, pink or yellow. Otherwise, low Converses will more often than not do the trick.
piercings and tattoos:
Piercings and tattoos are a necessary accessory for Oliver. Those god-awful teenage years resulted in thirteen piercings. A pair of snakebites lay embedded in his chin in the form of sterling spheres. The u-shaped septum retainer through his nose is his favorite; it reminds him of a bull. On occasion, the retainer can be hidden by flipping it up into his nose if needed. Four piercings rest on each of his ears, with the main one in the earlobe gauged at 6ga. The rest are a multitude of barbells and studs reaching into the cartilage of his ear. As for tattoos, well, Oli is a little tat-crazy. His first tattoo lays on his right forearm, with the words ‘shootandsmile’ in bold letters. The second is on his chest, a large, decorative B inked over his heart, and the top of the B appears to be bleeding. This tattoo is in loving memory of Brendon, his late boyfriend. On the back of his neck, Oli has a small and beautiful portrait of his mother, Erica, with her name under it, and her birth date along with her death date: Oliver’s birthday. On Oli’s tailbone, there is a poem he has written himself about his life of emptiness. It’s only two lines, an excerpt from the actual poem; “i am greeted by an empty room, and echoes of my hollowed heart weeping in anguish. please come back.” On the inside of his left palm, Oliver has Erica’s, Brendon’s and Noelle’s initials; his only family, he refers to them.
Personality: agony:[/font]
The years have not been kind to Oliver. From his wretched childhood into his crumbling teen years, everything has fallen apart. Harbored in his silver blue eyes, Oli stores his hidden anguish, released often late at night after some Zinfandel and a little heroin. Love has not shown any mercy at all, either. With every lover, his heart seems to weaken. He has no one to blame but himself. Therefore, his hidden torture is expressed through a figurative noose around his neck, tied with one hell of a knot. As far as Oliver is concerned, there is no way out of his misery, but there are ways to mute it. Exhibit A, heroin and alcohol. Even with this supporting him, Oliver broods quietly in thought. Conversations with him are short lived, because he can’t seem to go a minute without thinking of how badly he’s fucked up his life.
stress:[/font]
Oliver constantly feels pressure from every side. He has people wanting him to be perfect, people wanting him to be imperfect; people who want him to forget, people who want him to remember; people who love him, people who love to hate him. It’s a tangled situation and often results in extremely stressful conditions in which Oli feels the need to drink excessively. Actually, he seems to favor heroin over alcohol, but the fact that it’s a date-rape drug still seems to make him wary of its potential. Though seemingly suicidal, Oli is quite afraid of death. In any case, Oliver takes on more stress than he should have to. He is constantly criticizing himself, his actions and thoughts, while dealing with other problems that arise.
shamelessness:[/font]
Despite his dreary outlook on life, Oliver is quite the bold little thing. It’s amazing how much attitude can be stomached in such a tiny body. Oli is not afraid to speak his mind, and if you talk to him, you’ll understand. More than often he’ll mouth off to people, never bothering to think before he acts. Or speaks, for that matter. Parties, preferably raves, are usually where you’ll find Oli. His motto? “Party harder.” The phrase speaks for itself. Oliver is a brazen party boy. While some of the time he’ll be lost in his head, Oli does love to be loud and spontaneous. Really, around him, you never really know what to expect. Don’t be surprised if he breaks out into random singing or dancing, or jumps onto your back for a piggy-back ride. It’s just his way of having fun.
humor:[/font]
Oliver may come off as a depressed sort of person, but when among people he loves, there’s nothing he loves more than to make people laugh. He also enjoys laughing, himself. Contrary to what most people probably think, Oli laughs, smiles and grins easily. But what makes him the happiest is when he can make other people happy. He has been told that he has a very sarcastic sense of humor; it can force a smile out of nearly anyone. His bitterness is reflected in the wry and mocking attitude he approaches his friends with. It comes quickly and effortlessly to him, and he just blurts out whatever is on the top of his head. Usually it turns out a little bit funny. If not, he redeems herself through anecdotes of his screw ups and clumsiness. It’s like a reality show without the laugh track.
passion and love:[/font]
Even having been hurt by so many people, Oliver finds himself a passionate person. When the moment strikes, he can be ravenous for love. He, like any girl, wants to be wanted and cherished. Knowing there is a slim to none chance of this happening, Oli has resorted to the life of a, um, whore. Basically, he’ll take any hot guy that she can get. Personality and depth is not important in this case. However, he has a problem of falling in love too fast. He gets easily attached, which seems to be a bad habit of his. But when he’s with ‘that person,’ then everything stops, except his heart. On the one hand, Oli sees love a disgusting emotion in which he tries to avoid, but on the other it’s a desirable feeling that he longs to have again. With love clearly out of the question, Oliver likes to have no-strings relationships. In other words, relationships based on sex appeal. Physical attraction is crucial to him, considering that it gives him that fake, loved sort of feeling. If ever there were a more broken hearted, love fucked screw up.
History: Oliver was brought up in a small, ill-fitted family in Huntington Beach, California. His parents were high school sweethearts, but over time their love faded to irritable tolerance. By the time Oliver was born, Erica, his mother, was young and distressed. Oliver’s father, Victor, was constantly working several jobs to keep his family afloat. When he would get home, fights would break out, progressing into such violence until Erica would have to take four-year-old Oli into his room. It became a usual thing, to the point where Oli could tune out the crying of his mother and the shouting of his father and quietly cry himself to sleep. On his ninth birthday, Erica and Victor tried to be on their best behavior for his party. While children ran and screamed in party hats in the backyard, Oli watched as his parents strode off into the house. A shatter and a shriek brought all eyes to the patio windows, where Erica lay motionless on the floor. Pieces of a broken lamp were scattered around her, leaving cuts and blood all over her face. Victor suddenly dropped to his knees, sobbing and frantically checking for vital signs. Oliver struggled to join his parents, but a panic-stricken parent held him back. An ambulance arrived, courtesy of Oli’s grandmother, followed by the police. Oliver’s birthday suddenly became the anniversary of his mother’s death.
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CONTINUED
