|Andy, AndySquid's squid!|
Justin. 2.Justin found herself dreading going out without Dylan, everyone stared at her, Matthew and Damian always insisted that no one was staring, but she could tell they were lying she could tell they just said that to stop her from worrying. Everyone looked at her as if she were a freak, some people whispered it under their breath. When Dylan was with her she felt safe, every muttered comment would get a scowl or growl from him and, she wasn’t entirely sure why, it made her feel safer.Justin. 2. by MystroTheDefender
She liked that he acknowledged the stares and comments, so she knew she wasn’t imagining it.
She kept her eyes on the floor, swallowing hard and shying away from the groups of people she passed. This was the first time she’d been out on her own. It was only a visit to the shop but it still seemed daunting. She hadn’t told anyone she was leaving the house, it was meant to just be a quick errand and she knew the way, she’d taken $5 from the table in the hall, put on her nice shoes a
Justin. 1.Justin hummed happily as she dressed herself in her favourite pale purple dress, sitting on her desk chair to tie on her brown-string bracelet, jingling the charms to make sure it wasn’t too loose. She stood and walked out the room, a thought niggling at the back of her mind that Damian might have forgotten. She tried to push the thought away, but as she searched the large house for the older man it forced its self to the forefront of her mind. She could feel her breath starting to shorten as she ran out of places to look, “Damian?” she shouted, frowning as she poked her head into the kitchen. She whined slightly and flopped down on one of the seats, she wrapped her head in her arms and whimpered slightly.Justin. 1. by MystroTheDefender
She hated when Dylan left for school, she had nothing to do, Dylan constantly insisted there were plenty of activities she could take part in but none of them seemed as nice without him there.
“Justin?” Damian’s voice came from the living room, Jus
Cosplay. Twiddler.Edward frowned as he looked himself over in the mirror, his eyes fixing on the sub-par reddish-brown wig that sat tight on his head.Cosplay. Twiddler. by MystroTheDefender
"You know hair doesn't work this way," he said indignantly, glancing towards the bathroom, "This... 'curl thing' looks ridiculous. It wouldn't go like this unless he used a fuck-ton of gel..."
Harvey stuck his head round the door, frowning slightly, a slicked back blond wig askew on his own head, "Stop bitching, this is supposed to be fun."
Edward rolled his eyes, "Well lately your idea of 'fun' has got a little weird... Why don't you have a curl?"
"Because Germany doesn't have a curl. Italy does."
Edward let out a small huff, "Only the straight characters have curls.... Odd rule."
Harvey stepped out of the bedroom, the sleeves of his slightly too small German army uniform pulling up as he crossed his arms and frowned, "What are you talking about? Italy isn't straight."
Edward raised an eyebrow, "Yeah he is, Harvey. In the show he goes after girls. He's s
Fame! GerIta part 3Ludwig kept glancing down at his phone, on the bus to school he rarely had anything to do, he had thought Feliciano would prove a nice distraction from the monotony but he hadn’t said anything this morning.Fame! GerIta part 3 by MystroTheDefender
For the past few days they had talked on and off, usually early in the morning when Feliciano had just got up, and mid afternoon when the celebrity had his lunch.
But Ludwig hadn’t heard a hello from the boy this morning, it shouldn’t worry him, but it did. What if something had happened over night?
He shook his head, his grip on the phone tightening, he shouldn’t worry, they had probably just passed through a bad wifi area, and he’d be back on later.
He smiled slightly at his friends as he got off the bus, they sat waiting for him on the wall by the front doors.
“Hi,” he said as he sat next to them, his phone still clutched tight in his hand. Part of him wanted to tell them, part of him wanted to keep it to himself, he knew hey would only p
Chance in hell, Valentines Day.Valentines Day in Arkham was always somewhat awkward, the inmates were told to write cards to their friends or partners if they had them. For the past three years Edward had received only the card sent by the warden, one was sent to everyone to stop people feeling left out, not that it had the desired effect, if anything it made Edward feel worse.Chance in hell, Valentines Day. by MystroTheDefender
He doubted that he would get any this year either, despite his budding friendship with Harvey he certainly didn’t think he’d get one from him. Harvey was always tetchy about displays of affection. Edward was going to give him a card though, if he liked it or not. He would walk into the rec room, wish Harvey a happy valentines day, and give him the hand written card.
His guard took the card from him to check it, to make sure that Edward hadn’t written in any riddles or insults, finding that he had simply written ‘Happy Valentines Day, dear friend.’ He nodded and handed the card back, “Any others?” he a
Titleless. PruCan. Part 1.Matthew loved the park at this time of year, he knew other people didn’t, most people hated the overcast, cold weather, the slippery paths, the sludge from the snow that’d fallen two days ago.Titleless. PruCan. Part 1. by MystroTheDefender
Matthew loved it, it was so calm and quiet. He didn’t like coming to the park on the day that it snowed; all those obnoxious kids would come down from the apartment buildings and have a snowball fight, and they’d always end up ganging up on that one weak kid. It broke his heart.
But there was no one here today, he could walk by the lake without fear of a snowball to the face, and the birds were back as usual, waiting for him by the bench. The usual collection of ducks and pigeons waiting to eat the last of his lunch.
He pulled his backpack off and used it to wipe the damp seat, he sat and unzipped the bag, pulling out his plastic lunchbox. He said a quick hello to the birds and began to eat his ham sandwich.
He sat in near silence as he ate his food, looking over the
Fame! 2 GerItaFeliciano rested his head on the window of his tour bus, putting his feet up and staring out at the German countryside. He was still smiling, he hadn't been able to stop since the concert, his throat was sore and his eyes ached but the smile stayed stubborn on his face. Since that boy had called him handsome.Fame! 2 GerIta by MystroTheDefender
Handsome, he'd never been called handsome. Pretty, cute, talented… not handsome.
Romano tapped Feliciano's foot, "Don't put your dirty feet on my seat, idiot," he frowned.
"Sorry, Romano," Feliciano said quietly in response, tucking his seat under his chair. "…There's nothing on tv."
"Says you," Romano smirked, taking the remote and flicking through the channels. "You seem happy," he observed.
Feliciano nodded, deciding not to expand on Romano's point. He raised himself from his chair to get his laptop, trying to remember the boys name.
Ludwig… what was his last name? He typed in his best guess, and the search engine fixed his mistake. 'Ludwig Belischmidt'. Fe
Fame! GerItaLudwig couldn't stop grinning, he'd been looking forward to this for months, dreaming of it for years. Finally he was there, Gilbert indifferent at his side, he was happy Ludwig was happy of course, but he wasn't interested in these foreign pop singers as much as his brother was, if at all. Gilbert didn't know what his brother saw in the Italian group they were seeing tonight, but Ludwig had been hinting for far too long that he wanted to see them live, when they finally toured in Germany… what was Gilbert supposed to do if not buy tickets?Fame! GerIta by MystroTheDefender
Ludwig stared out the window of the car, frowning at the snow, hoping it wouldn't affect the snow, hoping to god that they wouldn't cancel at the last minute.
It would be a waste of their own time and money, Ludwig assured himself, they wouldn't cancel, they hadn't cancelled any of their previous shows.
"They won't cancel," Gilbert smirked, "They haven't cancelled any of their shows and they weather last week was worse than thi
I try frantically to clear my head, ‘imagine a meadow on a sunny day…’ I think to myself, repeating it. I don’t normally get flustered like this, but it is my first day at a new school; a situation that most young adults are intimidated by.
‘Should I take another pill?’ the thought popped into my head.
No, you shouldn’t.
See, I’ve already taken two of them, my doctor does say to take one if I feel overwhelmed, but I think three of them might be too many for one morning.
I count myself as an almost normal teen, only two reasons stop me from considering myself as completely normal. The first being that I am in foster care, (as mentioned in the pre-face) and the second being that I am incredibly smart (also mentioned in the pre-face).
There’s also the depression thing, but I don’t count that as being ‘un-normal’ – my doctor said that the statistics are something like 1 in 4 for mental illness. Whereas the statistics for kids-in-care are more like 58 in 10,000, and that is a big difference.
The smart thing seems to be a personal bias, but still, I’ll count that.
It’s because of these two things that I’m starting this new school, and also the reasons I’m so nervous; Ipsum North is quite a prestigious secondary school, the uniform alone cost my foster parents over one hundred pounds (holy hell right?!). So I guessed that the school would be filled with snobby teens, the sort that I normally can’t help making a snide comment towards, which normally results in me either getting in trouble with my ‘parents’ or getting myself beaten up(always the best part of my day).
I’m scared of making a bad first impression.
I inhale a deep breath as I slide open the old front door to enter the building; the opening hallway is a large, well-lit chasm, with wood panelling and pale green paint, I’m not the type to believe in ghosts, but this place has got to be haunted. I almost cough as the smell of old paper mixed with teenage sweat quickly fills my nostrils (Yuck), I clear my throat in an attempt to clear my head(as if that would work) as I walk down the hall to find my new classroom(yay!). Helen had told me that the form room was number 92. It took me about 5 minutes of searching to find it, she should really have given me better directions.
I can’t help but close my eyes as I knock on the door and wait for an answer, I’m invited in by an old-ish blonde haired guy(his eyes kinda creep me out, I don’t know why.), I assume this is the teacher. He tells me to stand in front of the class; I always found this the most humiliating part of the whole ‘new-school-routine’, it always makes me feel like a calf in a petting zoo or something. I comply and stand next to the teacher’s desk and look out at the students; some just look bored, some are chatting with their desk partners.
“Alright class!” The teacher yells in an attempt to get the class’ attention; it half worked, so the teacher starts talking in the hope that the rest of the class will begin to pay attention soon, “This is Zachary Baker, he’s a new student, I hope you’ll all make him feel welcome. Umm, let’s see…” He looked around the room, I could see people’s eyes darting away, not wanting to be the one stuck with the new kid (Social Suicide!).
He’s finally decided on someone, “Joey, I’m giving you the joyous task of looking after Mr Baker for his first week,” he points me toward a rather pretty brunette girl.
I pull out one of the empty plastic chairs and sit down, I swore I heard the girl whisper “For god’s sake…” before turning and smiling.
“Hi, Zachary wasn’t it?”
I smile as the teacher hands me a writing book, “Zach, actually. You’re Joey?”
She grunts happily and nods, “Short for Josephine, nice to meet you Zach. We’ve got science in 20 minutes, room 233, I’ll show you where it is, and you can hang out with my friends and me at break and lunch if you want,” as she speaks she shoots a large, fake smile at me, I hate fakery, but I’m determined to make friends at this school; it seems to me that because I’m a foster child and have no professional contacts, I don’t have as much of a chance of getting a high paying job in later life as these rich snobs do. This school is the perfect opportunity to meet someone who was from a rich, well-known family, now hopefully that person would be smart as well, but really, that would just be an added bonus.
I nod and am handed a few more brightly coloured books by the teacher, I flick through one of the textbooks as Joey starts to try and engage me in small talk, “So, how come you’ve moved here?”
I sigh lightly, I’ve always hated explaining how I’ve ended up in this mess; it’s only ever made people feel sorry for me, which is something I hate even more. “I’m in foster care, my new ‘family’s’ here, so I had to come here too.”
It appeared on her face; that look that makes my stomach turn, the one that says ‘Foster care? You poor boy.’
Joey cleared her throat, at first I think she might be thinking about what to say next, maybe avoid the subject, but no, she comes out with “Why are you in foster care? If you don’t mind me asking.”
I shake my head dismissively, “I’d rather not talk about it,” I realise this might stop the conversation altogether, so I quickly change the subject, “So what’s it like here, the teachers aren’t all like this bozo are they?”
Joey chuckled, “It’s alright, Mr Kole’s alright once you get used to him, you’ll love our English teacher, she’s amazing… And she’s quite pretty, if you’re into that sort of thing.”
I like Joey, I like her voice, it’s kinda girly, but a little deeper than I’d expect.
I’m a little confused: Joey seems to be moderately interesting; normally the person chosen to lead the new kid around the school would be either the teachers favourite student, or the ‘geek’ of the class. Joey doesn’t really seem to be either, and as we continue talking I notice that what was originally fakery, is starting turning into a slight, but genuine interest.
We leave the classroom a few minutes later, laughing at a joke Mr Kole had made; although it was not supposed to be a joke, it was still bloody funny. I blindly follow Joey as she leads me up some stairs, I’m trying to focus of not sounding like an idiot, and not falling over as we walk.
“233 is just round the corner at the top, here,” she turns as we reach the top of the stairs and she opens the door immediately to her right, she led me to my seat, between her and a tall, blonde haired boy. “This is Bruce, he’s my best friend, so be nice.”
I smile as I hold out my hand, “Zach Baker, nice to meet you.” Bruce takes my hand and shakes it firmly, nodding happily.
The lesson is centred on combustion, a subject I find incredibly fun, however I don’t get to participate in the practical part of the lesson (Damn it). The teacher, Mr Tracie, pulls me aside to ask ‘if I was doing all right’, “I know how the first day can be rather stressful, especially in your situation.” I find myself frowning; ‘your situation’…
He continues despite my obvious discomfort.
“I realise that being from a children’s care home, especially a poorly funded one, might make you feel self-conscious around all these public-schoolers, but-”
I cut him off there; I don’t buy into all that elitist sounding drivel.
“-Sir, I fail to see why my situation would make me anymore stressed. I’m fine, but thank you for your concern.” Mr Tracie smiles gloomily and tells me to go back to my seat, so much for getting people to like me.
I walk back to my seat and sit down, “He’s a little rude isn’t he. Did you hear him?” I mumble to Joey and Bruce, as they scribble down notes about the qualities of magnesium.
Joey looks up at me from her work “Yeah, subtlety’s not his strong point, not a nice person; he’s had Bruce on the verge of tears before.” Bruce’s jaw drops and he slaps Joey playfully on the arm “Oi, you’re not supposed to tell people that!”
It was the first time I had heard him speak; he had a lovely singsong voice that seemed to invite conversation. “Why was that then?” I asked, trying to not sound too interested.
Bruce shrugs, looking down at the floor “Nothing really, just some stupid thing.”
Joey chuckles, another oddly girly noise, “Bruce worked for ages on this project in year 7, and Mr Tracie said it was crap.”
Bruce starts to comb his hair with his fingers as he explains, “Actually he said ‘I’m going to give you an A because you’re obviously the only person here who didn’t get any help’…”
I laugh; I can’t help it, “Oh that’s horribly funny.” I start copying notes from Joey and try to strike up a conversation with Bruce, we seem to be getting along rather well until I wander onto the subject of Bruce’s home life and his answers start to become short and snarky- I don’t want to cause an argument on my first day, so I drop the topic. What I can guess from the answers Bruce gave me was that he is an only child from a rich family whose parents don’t pay a lot of attention to him. He seemed like the perfect person for me, as my contact. We have a lot in common and Bruce seems to have a nice ‘feel’ about him; trusting and friendly combined with intelligence, and not that snobby kind of intelligence that I had expected, but a sort of timid intelligence, as if he’s not aware of how smart he really is. He’s perfect. I smile as Bruce tells yet another terrible joke; “What do you get when you cross an elephant and a rhino? El-if-i-no.” The joke makes Joey laugh loudly (apparently she loves terrible jokes), coaxing a ‘Shhh’ from the teacher, we dipped our heads, almost synchronously, and we continue talking in hushed tones.
“How do you come up with those?” Joey whispers, grinning widely, “You have different ones every day, you can’t be making them up.”
Bruce chuckles (Singsong, love it!), he’s still scribbling notes in his incredibly neat script, “Mum and dad got me a new laptop after their trip to Sweden, I get downloads from a website.” I would make a comment about Bruce being spoiled, but I realise from the boy’s tone that it was a pity present, my best guess would be that the poor kid had been left pretty much on his own for a week or so, probably in the care of some semi-evil relative. It occurred to me that Bruce’s use of humour was as a defence mechanism – I know I do it myself. I smile to myself; Bruce really is perfect.
I’m getting ahead of myself now, I can’t help it, if I find someone who I like who’s nice in return, suddenly my mind starts thinking we’re best friends. God I’m an idiot.
I didn’t even realise I did this until after I started taking those mood equalisers.
If I were to cross one of my ‘best friends’ in the street they would ignore me. I didn’t realise that the reason they ignored me was because they didn’t care.
I guess I just kinda fade into the background, and one of the things about depression is that you want to fade into the background. You want to stop existing.
So it would suit me perfectly that people who I hung out with would treat me as if I didn’t exist.
But when I started taking the mood equalisers I realised the truth.
That I didn’t want to not exist.
So anyway, we fumbled our way through science, or more correctly; Bruce and I did the science and Joey fumbled.
Bruce would smile at Joey when she got something wrong, saying “Silly little rich girl,” in a playful baby voice. I could tell my presence was hampering the conversation, but I couldn’t really help that. I was determined to have some real friend so help me god!
“Bruce!” She says, frowning as she hits him playfully. This seems to be a normal practice between these two, gentle physical abuse. Is that normal, between friends? It’s not something I’ve heard of.
“Don’t be so sexist!” she continues.
“I’m not being sexist, just pointing out facts,” Bruce reaches out and tries to ruffle Joey’s hair, and she waves her arm furiously in an attempt to stop him.
Zach Baker POV.
You Look So Lovely, High Above MeShe's blood, flesh and bonesYou Look So Lovely, High Above Me by vvrules21
No tucks or silicone
She's touch smell sight taste and sound
But somehow I can't believe that anything should happen
Ocean blue watched as the ripples in the crystalline white follow along with the muscles underneath, the possessor of these physiques downing what Ellis guessed was the man's third glass of caramel colored liquid.
The slicked black hair was covered lightly with white shadows. He shook his perfect-profile head up and down toward the bartender for another shot, the reflections from his gelled hair bouncing with him. The white shimmering off his wire-like hair was close to the pure white of his suit.
The only bright color that stood out from the colorless plains was the robin egg blue of his dress shirt's collar. The white made the gorgeous cerulean stand out nicely against his peach tinted skin.
From where he was sitting, he could only vaguely make out the soft scowl shaped on the man's face. Yet it was the only detail he could ma