Realistic or Modern ᴄᴀᴍᴘ ʟᴀᴋᴇ ʟᴏᴅɢᴇ || ᴏғғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ

[final girl.]

Welcome to Camp Lake Lodge!
{Application Letter}

Hello, and welcome to Camp Lake Lodge, here we provide services for children who are... quite challenging, troubled, even. For the entire summer, we will take your child off your hands and reform them into functioning members of society. When you pick them up at the end of the summer, you’ll barely recognize them.

Here at Camp Lake Lodge, we pride ourselves on our strict disciplinary actions as students are expected to follow the rules, no matter who they happen to be. Failure to follow said rules or orders given by the camp personnel will result in punishment based on the severity of the crime at hand. Stealing something from a fellow camper will result in kitchen duty, while fighting another camper or member of the camp will result in infinite solidarity, where campers will have adequate time to consider what they have done and how they may make their mistakes right once more.

We believe that all children should have a chance at rehabilitation from a life of hardships and troubles. It is for this reason, the camp has decided to accept students of all genders (i.e: male, female, trans, asexual, etc) within our walls. We are aware of the concern this raises among parents and guardians, but rest assured, we will be closely monitoring campers at all times and shenanigans will not be tolerated. Students caught breaking these rules will be properly dealt with in a timely manner.

It is our pleasure to open our gates to the public once more, and to do whatever we can to help make today’s youth tomorrow’s success story. If you are interested in sending your child to Camp Lake Lodge, please do not hesitate to fill the application sheet below and submit it. Your child’s journey will begin shortly. You will not regret it.

We look forward to doing business with you!

- Winevra Hix, Director and Owner of Camp Lake Lodge

____



A camp designed to “rehabilitate” troubled youth. Sounds fun, eh?

Wrong. At Camp Lake Lodge, children from all walks of life from each state in the U.S. are brought together for three months of sheer torture. The camp is nothing compared to how it is advertised to parents, and no amount of letters sent home or complaints filed about maltreatment, there is never enough to have the place properly investigated. Instead, it is up to a small group of campers to band together and survive the camp of nightmares. What does this entail? Oh, I’m glad you asked.

Most days, exclusive to the short weekends, camper are expected and required to go to specific classes, as if in school. Between classes is a designated time where students can mingle and get to know one another. At this time, many students devise plans to push the rules to the limit, or better yet, how to escape this hell hole.

How far will they go before they are caught? Repeat offenders have plenty of experience with this place. They know the ropes, the rule of the roost, they know the ins and outs of the entire camp. They are the ultimate troublemakers, the exact type your parents had warned you against.

The exact type you cannot seem to get enough of.

____

Rules and Registration

— Be semi-advanced (produce at LEAST five solid sentences).
— Your character must be in the ranges of 15-18.
— Do not apply and then disappear for good.
— Follow the rules of RpNation.
— Be respectful.
— I do allow relationships between campers.
____

CAMPERS

GIRLS - CABIN A

Absinthe Elavine Carter — final girl.
Crystal LeAnne Walker — Radio_Rat66.6
Aaliyah Michelle Wilson — erzulie
Kira Rae Reise — thinking

(CLOSED)

BOYS - CABIN B

Jae-Woon Lee — kouzcy
Tim Hartley — Twin Fantasy
Aaron Seymore Ollila — mikaluvkitties
Rowen Reed — Queen.

(CLOSED)
____

APPLICATION FORUM {ALL SLOTS REQUIRED TO BE FILLED}

BASICS

— PRESENT NAME TEXT HERE
— NICKNAMES TEXT HERE

— GENDER TEXT HERE
— ACCEPTED PRONOUNS TEXT HERE
— SEXUALITY TEXT HERE

— AGE TEXT HERE
— BIRTHDAY/ZODIAC SIGN TEXT HERE

APPEARANCE (PHOTO/FACECLAIM REQUIRED)

— QUOTES


THEME SONG(S)

— HEIGHT TEXT HERE
— WEIGHT TEXT HERE
— BODY TYPE TEXT HERE
— HAIR TEXT HERE
— EYES TEXT HERE
— SCARS TEXT HERE
— BODY MODIFICATIONS TEXT HERE
— OUTFIT/ACCESSORIES PHOTO AND OR TEXT REQUIRED

— PHYSICAL HEALTH TEXT HERE

PERSONALITY

— POSITIVE TRAITS TEXT HERE
— NEUTRAL TRAITS TEXT HERE
— NEGATIVE TRAITS TEXT HERE
— MBTI CODE

HISTORY(BACKSTORY)

— MENTAL DISORDERS (IF ANY) TEXT HERE

— FEARS AND/OR PHOBIAS TEXT HERE

RELATIONSHIPS

— CURRENT STATUS TEXT HERE
— CRUSH TEXT HERE
— PAST RELATIONSHIPS TEXT HERE

____

​

 

[final girl.]

ABSINTHE

“I see beauty in everything but myself.”

________________

The chilling touch of fingerprints could not compare to the surface of the glass upon them. The scorching rays of sunlight was as though blinding, although through the sickeningly beauteous blue orbs of Absinthe Elavine Carter, it seemed to resemble the dusk of approaching darkness. Located amongst the evidence of a charter vehicle, she appeared to be considerably melancholy. The dark rings found layered beneath her two-toned eyes, was nothing compared to the mental exhaustion she felt coursing through her every aching muscle, though as unbelievable and illogical as it seemed. A near permanent scowl was etched upon her features, highlighting her prominent jawline, which appeared unhealthily sunken, as did her entire figure. She was a walking, breathing skeleton. Her stomach released a retched growl, warning her of its continuous starvation. A malicious music to the ear.

If only she could plead for it to stop, for the monster to leave her. That glorious, beautiful abomination that she could have never let go, no matter her fight. Lingering in her every thought and move, beckoning her like a ship to a lighthouse on a stormed night. It was the only light in her dull, dark world. Or so she wished to believe those tormenting, twisted thoughts. This was her cruel cycle, a horror to any of those who would witness it. If she let them. This itself was the reason she was located in the charter, anticipating her imminent doom.

Meanwhile, in her reality, there was nothing more to do than sit and wait. Her slender fingers grasped the edge of the vent above her, closing it as a chill crept toward her spine. She regret opening it in the first place, but the beaming sun could best any. There was no excessive need to freeze when you were already chilled to the bone. There was no fat to burn to warm her, which she didn’t entirely mind, but then again, she didn’t want to walk off the bus looking like a human popsicle. The immense hair that had grown of her arms stood on end, as she was covered in goosebumps. She was rather cold, most literally and figuratively, ironically, to say the least. Her temperamental parents would agree entirely.

We’re sending you to that camp for your own good! Hell, this has gotten so far out of hand! We can’t be seen with a bag of bones for a daughter!

Was that what she was? A bag of bones? That was honestly quite rude. How were they related again?

Camp Lake Lodge was heard to be a wonderful place to treat and rehabilitate the troubled youth of society. Absinthe’s parents, whom were rather logical people, had researched the camp to the maximum degree, yet could not find an error in all of their studies. She was informed immediately to her application, lending her a mere forty-eight hours to collect her requested items and thoughts. She had been sent off without a simple goodbye in trade, as her parents were occupied in their laboratory at the time, experimenting rare viles of liquid they had found on an exhibition to Egypt, in search of finding new elements for the periodic table.

You are gross! Disgusting! No boy would ever love a girl without curves! Ask your father!

He did marry a bitch, I see your point, but Absinthe would prefer not.

Of the city of Castine, Maine, with the population one-thousand, Camp Lake Lodge is the largest plot of land within the town. The camp is located of the edge of the state, leaning rather toward the Canadian border. Absinthe had researched such information the night before, curious of what she would find when she arrived. She was all too perplexed to witness lush greenery as the vehicle was led into the forest. From what she learned through her research, the land was told to be bland and tasteless, opposing the sight before her. Unkempt trees that were reminiscent of the wood Snow White had once strolled about. But more... green, more alive, vibrant and exhilarating. Although said forest did not consist of humanoid faces or tree limbs reaching out to grab you like hands would, the point was stated nonetheless.

Who do you think you are? Treating us this way? You’re ruining our reputation!

What reputation? You haven’t done anything to change the lives of others besides yourselves.

Absinthe tilt her chin upward, looking past the heads of male and female seated in the rows before her, watching as the vehicle triumphed over the rolling hills, noticing as a fading wooden sign stood amidst the uncut forestry. The wood was rotting at the edges, mildew eating away the slight color left. The letters were a faded tone of ill green, the color of fermented lime:

“Taking your children since 1978! We accept all ages, new and old! We welcome you to Camp Lake Lodge!”

Absinthe continued to observe the disintegrating, hideously colored plaque from the corner of her eye, finding its message to be ironic, and frankly, odd. Returning her gaze to the forest, a clearing in the scenery appeared, revealing buildings of multiple sizes. Many looked to be built of new, far more modern material, rather others on the periphery of the lot looked to be on the edge of crumbling in decay.

You’ll see, you! You’ll see that you’re sick! You’re a sick, ugly little girl!

Because Absinthe needed that constant reminder. Thanks.

The large, looming overhang was the last thing to notice, as it read, nearly to be interpreted in a dubious manner: Camp Lake Lodge, A Home for All Those with Troubled Pasts.

conquer | from | within

 

[Twin Fantasy]

STOP THE TAPE!

tim hartley

this kid needs to be locked away!

☌

/ search

If you really care about me, you'll change your mind.

That was the last thing Tim said to his mother before she shipped him off on that bus.

It'd been years of diminishing returns for the Hartley family and their basket case of a son. "He's lost it, Jim." He'd hear his mother say from the corner of their tiny apartment, as he removed his contact lenses and brushed his teeth. "All these fights he's gettin' in. The money he's spendin' on piercings. He ain't eatin', all he ever talks about is becomin' a famous rapper. There's somethin' wrong with that kid, Jim. It's your fuckin' fault! You should'a let me get that abortion!"

Camp Lake Lodge was, as his father said, 'cheaper than therapy'. They'd found it online or something, used up the last of the internet before the bill ran out for a couple days to read about the place. Where they heard about it from, he had no idea. He didn't really want to know. They sprung the fact on him one month before he was to be shipped off. This way he could say goodbye to his one friend and get his head together. He figured it'd be some kind of kumbaya-my-lord kind of Jesus camp that would try (and fail) to squeeze the demons or whatever out of him and make him come back a good little boy. Mom really was not a fan of what Tim was going for.

"The bleached hair, the contacts, the piercings, Tim, what's gotten into you?"

He just wanted to look like the Rap God himself.

Maybe it was lame, to look up to a musician so much that he tried desperately to become like, the tinier, more pierced version of him. Maybe that was pathetic, to spend hours of his job's salary on blue contact lenses and a tat of one of his lyrics running down his arm. But it was the only thing keeping him from killing everyone in that damn house and then himself. It was the only grounding he had, knowing that, by all means, him and Eminem exist in the same world, and look kind of alike, and sometimes think about the same things.

Em probably wouldn't want Tim to be drinking himself into a stupor whenever possible, but that was more just for Tim's own sanity. No doubt when he was dropping god-tier albums from Mount Olympus, he'd be able to function and be happy without boozing up once a week. And hey, there were women (and gay dudes) who got plastic surgery to look like Cher or Madonna or whatever. How was this any different? If anything, Tim felt it was an improvement, as opposed to being some weird silicone abomination, no longer identifiable in comparison to who he was one year ago. At worst, sometimes he had trouble getting up in the morning. Feeling like the energy was sapped clean out of his body. Then he'd just skip school, and pass out to the sound of his own stomach tightening around nothing. Exercising was getting really hard because of it, so he'd given up on that for the time being. All just to resemble another man. Frankly, he'd oughtta be flattered by the lengths Tim would go to.

Mom and dad only really started to get mad about it when the liquor cabinet went barren, anyway.

He had a little get-together with his friend David before leaving, and David gave him an MP3 player. "A late birthday gift." He said. Tim spent hours downloading music onto the thing. (Illegally, of course. And it took hours, on their janky old home computer.) And then he stood in front of that bus, hours away from the camp's location in Maine. (He's a Detroit baby too. It's crazy up there. They had to drive a long distance just to get to the bus stop, and even then, it was far from where he was going.) And he said to his mother.

"If you really care about me, you'll change your mind."

His mom rolled her eyes and told him to quit bitching. They stood in silence until he was retrieved by the bus, with his few possessions. His tangible baggage minimal, but emotional baggage heavy in his hands. He found a seat where he felt he could be relatively alone and listen to some music. Then, as he always did on long drives, Tim fell asleep for a few hours.

Within the final stretch of land, he was awake and alert, and listening to My Name Is. A good song. He had a quote from it etched into his arm. It was a nice tattoo in its own right, the man who did it was clearly skilled at inking and calligraphy. But the sentimental value of it meant so much that, frankly, it could've been inked onto him by a kindergartner and he'd love it just the same. He'd never really seen a forest before. He'd never lived near one. And like hell his parents ever took him anywhere nice.

These're the kinds of places horror movies happen in, huh.

If Jason lives here, I'm gonna be pissed. He grinned to himself a bit at the thought, as they sped below the overhang. An overhang that accused him of being troubled. No doubt, everyone else had oughtta be troubled with him. If they're not now, they will be.

Or his name isn't Li'l Tim.

tags​

none

code by @pasta​

 

[thinking]

KIRA RAE REISE

MOOD: ANGRY AF.


Starkly apparent; the deadly defiance of Kira Reise’s contorted, twisted face
“I am NOT going!” A phrase of indignation, powered by her manic mood. The water boiling over a kettle on a stove, whistling and screaming. “YOU CANNOT MAKE FOR FUCK’S SAKE!” Chest rapidly rising and falling. Vexation was pouring out of every pore of the girl’s skin, it was comical to see such a delicate young figurine of a girl express such great emotion.
“You're going to be abandoned!” a quiet, fluttery yet mocking voice piped up, laughing aggressively in her right ear. Immediately she cupped it, wincing at the heavy butterfly in her chest. The voices were relentless. It was impossible to muffle them, they pierced the insides of her brain; a dagger unable to be pulled or pushed out. Her parents blamed it on the devil, Kira, the implant in her head. Both theories deluded with superstitions of the two parties.

Her parents could not be the slightest bothered to get her proper therapy, even when she began to show worrying signs as a younger child. It was blatantly obvious that something was wrong with Richard and Olivia Reise's angelic baby. Kira had always been a girl to drift into another world, holding a disassociated aura about her; as if she belonged in a different world. Well, it wasn't as controversial as you may think to say she did. Kira was oblivious to her surroundings, let alone what was going on in her head, making her so differentiated from the reality that was the current Earth.

Though, present was she, in this current moment. The seething, raw emotion she was expressing was definitely real. Tears pierced her eyes as she lashed out to strike her mother in anguish. She was not going to this Camp Lake full o’ Shit! No way was she! And nobody could make he— Her arm was jostled, her hand rescued from her mothers face as her father stood towering over the both of them. Appearing from no where he grabbed Kira’s arm, the grip leaving a tight pink outline; remains of the grasp.
“You’re definitely going now young lady!” Richard bellowed from above, holding the cross of Jesus in his other hand, like a god. Kira feared her father, all her mustered strife fizzled away, and she burst into tears. No sympathy was shown, not even an ounce from her mother.
—
The bus was small, stuffy and the air conditioning was blasting hot sweaty air from its system. A perfect time to light a cigarette. Amber. Flame. Inhale. Tobacco’s harsh, sickly flavour filled Kira’s lungs. She had given up fighting her families decision to send her to Camp Lake Lodge. She still was not sure why, why on Earth would they send her to this shit hole?
“Because you’re USELESS!” a deep, unsexed voice answered her plea,
“Oh, shut up.” Kira grumbled, unaware she was talking to herself.

The bus rolled on, bouncing along the uneven road humorously up and down, up and down, taking the troubled minded girl to her uncertain fate. As they approached, she rolled her eyes up over her head, draining the rest of her cigarette, in her oversized brown jacket. The roots of her hair were black whilst the tips where white. She had been unable to dye her hair at all, due to the fact that her parents had starved her from her hair products. Her lack of personal hygiene was obvious, the starch scent of smoke was ghastly, yet mixed with actually pretty pleasant aroma of Juicy Fruits gum it was actually bearable. Kira’s hair was slick with grease until it looked wet, it was a disgruntled look. She carried a suitcase full of belongings, the complexity of the situation was peculiar, why did she need all that stuff when she barely washed?


​

 

[Queen.]

son·der

n.

the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own.​

Rowan Reed​

There was no conceivable reason for the eighteen-year-old to have taken the bus in his uncle Thaddeus' mind. The moderately related man had burdened himself with eras of experience by now, looping around each of Rowan's tricks and tactics tenfold; or so he assumed. Even still, Rowan was soaking up information like a parched sponge, developing new methods and mechanisms to manipulate the bastardized system.

He didn't resent his uncle, per say, as many in his corrupt position would. He had removed his rose colored shades in early childhood, stepping into the angsty cosmos of cognizance. Even when that meant taking a long, sobering glimpse at himself. Rowan reveled in the art of distraction, perpetually providing himself with colorful stimuli to repel the demons that wrung his very arteries.

Surely, Thaddeus would not have parted with his nephew at the bus stop where many of the other children were collected like litter. He knew Reed. He knew that he would wait for the bus to descend into a halt before high tailing it away. He had nothing to lose, after all. Nothing to gain from this trip, either.

Rowan's mocha cinnamon eyes trained themselves like a target on the impending figure of the bus, which in itself looked sterile, uninviting, and destitute. When it moaned itself to a humming stop, he did nothing aside from recline against the frail, withering tree to his left while toying with the gum wrapper gathered into a ball in his pocket. He studied each individual being that stepped foot onto the damned ground, biting at the insides of his cheek until they oozed a metallic taste. He didn't necessarily have any remark on the heads of any of these teens.

There was an unkempt girl among the disheveled crowd smoking a cigarette, and the man couldn't help twisting his lips into a grin as he mulled over how she managed to get that one by the authorities. There were more pressing matters at hand, however, and the hickory haired walking curse swiveled his body in a sharp contrasting position, stalking off with no further comments. After a considerable distance spent pacing in a straight line, Rowan visually identified the forbidden girls' cabin. How he so adored forbidden things.

Without equivocation, Rowan fished for something in the side panels of the women's dorm, prying out wooden boards that effortlessly came loose in his hands. A stash of contraband lay thoughtfully on a swiped white towel. It could wait, sure enough. Well, most of it could, at least. Rowan yanked out a flask, tossing a wary glimpse over his shoulder before replacing the panels. He was so wound up. That would change soon enough.

You know I care about you, Ro. You're family. I know you care about me too, somewhere in there. I've seen it.

Drink.

But I'm just one man. And taking care of you is like taking care of a thirty-foot python. I'm worried about what it could do when it gets tired of me.

Drink.

I just... I really miss your mother. In an ideal world, you would have called 911. This would all be different.

Drink.

A brutally vivid image of Rowan's mother convulsing vehemently on the dirt, splashing around milk and blood played in his head like a projector screen, nearly overtaking his very vision. He shut his eyes, pursed his lips, and downed another gulp of the paint thinner tasting liquid. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to know anything about him. That made them all assume they were experts on his deal. The truth was, in his life, there were no woe-is-me events. Everything he'd ever gone through was his fault. He had put himself in that place. He caused each happenstance. After that day, he pursued a problematic life like it was gold.

code by @pasta​

 

[kouzcy]

[div class=container]

⠀♡coded by uxie♡

[div class=sidebar][div class=border1]

[/div][div class=name]LEE JAE-WOON.[/div][div class=info style=display:none][div class=scroll2]location: camp lake lodge.
mood: sad and angry.
mentions: final girl.
outfit: HERE
[/div][/div][div class=border2]

[/div][/div][div class=content][div class=scroll1]click on the small picture underneath his name.

Jae-Woon spent most of that morning exchanging punches with his father, because he didn't want to go to this stupid camp, that was going to apparently "make him a better person". Jae-Woon felt that nothing would make him a better person, he was him, and nothing was going to change his attitude about anything, or anyone. He despised his parents. He hated them with not even a burning passion, a burning hate.

"Nobody told you to send me to a correction camp, you asshole!" He yelled at his father and he attempted to throw a punch at his jaw, but his father quickly caught his fist, and he looked into his eyes with that fiery hate of his.

Jae-Woon's fist became weak and it dropped to his side, and he looked into his father's eyes before his father grabbed his chin and he pulled him close, "Lee Jae-Woon. I'm doing this for the best. You need someone to help you with your problems so your ass won't come crying to me when you DO have problems!" He spat in the boy's face, and Jae-Woon tried to turn away from his father, his eyes showing slight fear and respect.

"Yes father." He nodded. He knew he would be going to the camp looking like he got jumped by a whole bunch of people bigger than him. His nose was running with blood, and under his eye was almost black, his lip looking like it was bruised and busted from all that fighting.

"Now. Your clothes are on the couch, and you should board the bus soon." He said, jerking Jae-Woon's head back, and he walked off, without saying that he'll miss him, because he really wouldn't, and without saying that he loved him, because Jae-Woon knew good and well his father hated him, just as much as he hated him right back.

Jae-Woon went over to the couch after his father left, and he blinked back tears, trying to grab his bag with shaky hands was harder than he thought it would be. He managed to carry the bag in his hands, even though he was strong in the arms and legs, when he was weak in the knees and hands like this, it was hard to do certain things. Especially having a face beat up by your own father. He then went to the front door without saying anything, and he went through the door. His outfit put emphasis on his strong arms, but his face said weak. He went outside, and he waited on the bus, and when it came, he got on, and he sat down in the way back, avoiding the stares that he got, his eyes still glossy with tears.

When he sat down in the back, he put his bag down, and he looked out the window, avoiding the stares from the people on the seat across from him as well. He licked the dried blood from his lip, and he rubbed his nose slightly, leaving a smudge of blood under his nose. It was a bumpy ride, but he could care less, but when he arrived to the camp, he was more than just angry. He was frustrated, still upset, and furious, even. He didn't care much for the people now, and he grabbed his bag off the floor, pushing through the people and apparently being the first to get off the bus. He looked around, his dark eyes seeming intimidating at first, for the tears have vanished.

He was told to go to the registration room to get his cabin, which he wanted to be in ALONE, and without a roommate. He pushed past a couple people, including Absinthe, and he made his way to the room, going inside, and slamming the door behind him. He looked at the lady at the front desk and he narrowed his eyes slightly.

"Lee.. Jae-Woon." He said, his voice broken.
[/div][/div]
[/div]

[class=container] --bg-color-1:#000; --bg-color-2:#afaeae; --color-1: #4c4c4c; --color-2: #ff7caa; --t-color: #3d2427; --img-1: url('http://i67.tinypic.com/acq2wy.png'); --img-2: url('https://i.pinimg.com/564x/3f/4f/d4/3f4fd4af16f4b591ae43f0863d4d3612.jpg'); height:320px; width:400px; margin:auto; position:relative; [/class] [class=sidebar] height:300px; width:160px; background-color: var(--bg-color-1); float:left; border-top-left-radius:3px; border-bottom-left-radius:3px; [/class] [class=content] height:284px; width:230px; background-color: var(--bg-color-2); float:left; border-top-right-radius:3px; border-bottom-right-radius:3px; padding:5px; padding-top:8px; padding-bottom:8px; overflow:hidden; text-align:justify; font-size:10px; [/class] [class=scroll1] height:100%; width:90%; overflow-y:auto; padding-right:40px; color: var(--t-color); margin-left:8px; [/class] [class=scroll2] height:100%; width:110%; overflow-y:auto; padding-right:40px; color: var(--t-color); [/class] [class=border1] height:95px; width:95px; border-radius:50%; border:1px solid var(--color-1); padding:5px; margin:auto; margin-top:15px; transition:0.4s; [/class] [class name=border1 state=hover] transform: scale(1.05); transition:0.4s; [/class] [class=name] font-size:18px; color:white; text-shadow: 2px 2px var(--color-1); text-align:center; margin:auto; margin-top:2px; font-weight:bold; letter-spacing:1px; [/class] [class=info] height:69px; width:124px; margin:auto; background-color: var(--bg-color-2); margin-top:5px; padding:3px; color: var(--t-color); font-size:10px; overflow:hidden; [/class] [class=border2] height:42px; width:42px; border-radius:50%; border:1px solid var(--color-1); padding:3px; margin:auto; margin-top:10px; transition:0.4s; position:relative; top:0px; [/class] [class name=border2 state=hover] transform: scale(1.05); transition:0.4s; cursor: pointer; [/class] [script class=border2 on=click] slideToggle 800 info [/script] [class=dialogue] display:inline-block; color: var(--color-1); [/class] [class=alt] display:inline-block; background-color:var(--color-2); min-height:20px; width: calc(100% - 10px); padding:5px; [/class]

 

[erzulie]

[IMG='width:313px;']https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/197531209847406592/523543887231451137/image0.jpg[/IMG]Name | Aaliyah Wilson
Outfit | X
Location | Registry
Tags | None

To think that she’d been spending one last summer at Camp Lake Lodge or Hell, she so affectionately deemed it during her first stay. Now she knew what to expect and had grown accustomed to the methods of the camp. Aaliyah knew the rules, the in and out of the camp, and it’s workings like the back of her hand. It was easy when one returned every summer since they were fifteen. Honestly she didn’t understand why her parents kept sending her back when she returned just as she’d left, she’d commend them for their dedication though. Aaliyah was well known as a regular trouble maker, she enjoyed the looks of distaste on most of the employees’ faces when she returned each summer. She’d learned many, if not all of their names just to ticked them off when she called them by it.

Aaliyah had back her bags the day before and said her goodbyes to her friends. The week had been spent being the delinquents that they were. It had been a lot of fun for Aaliyah, even if she’d been banned from a store or three. Aaliyah and her parents had left early. She listened to their usual verbal jabs with boredom. Their abuse hadn’t been physical in years as Aaliyah began to fight back. And now she had a smart response to everything that they threw at her. She smiled as the camp came into view. Like usual Aaliyah hasn’t bother to say goodbye to her parents, instead she grabbed her things and went on her way.

Aaliyah had arrived at the camp early. All of her things were unpacked and her favorite bed claimed. Now the young woman stood outside to greet some fellow oldies and maybe scare the newbies a little. Aaliyah was approached by one of the employees, reminding her that she had been tasked with showing the new girls to the dorm and telling them about the camp. Aaliyah rolled her eyes as the employee ushered her to the registry. “Would all of the newbies please stand front and center!”

 

[final girl.]

ABSINTHE

tags: kouzcy

The large charter bus began to slow in the approach to park, to Absinthe’s attendance. The screeching of brakes was similar to the scream of a banshee, the noise bouncing off the walls of the metal framed vehicle. Absinthe rather preferred the bus to implode than to continue en route toward its considered destination. She found very slight comfort in the others near her, as they seemed far more occupied within themselves and their conversations. She appeared to be out of place to others, as she was more silent among the vehicle of mentionable anarchy. Absinthe, in consideration of this, refused to tear her gaze from the paned glass, absorbing each measly, minor, incomprehensible detail of the grounds before her. Her inquisitive mind hypothesized and discovered that not only were other, countless campers, there were vehicles protruding at the seams with them. Yet, she was the only one.

Once the vehicle had noticeably hindered moving, stopping the engine completely, Absinthe stood. Her bones ached and hands trembled like a leaf. She grabbed the small amount of luggage she had set in the seat at side of her, extending the handle to allow the wheeled bag to be maneuvered. Suddenly, the device in her pocket began to vibrate, causing her to roll her eyes in annoyance. She selected it to the palm of her hand, viewing the contact name. Jack. A name that she could have recognized all too well.

Jackson Linh was in a word, spontaneous. There was so much to say about him in so little words. He had changed Absinthe’s life since the moment he had called her his friend. He obtained the ability to bring any and everyone out of their shells, including Absinthe. He was quite the socialite, as he was popular amongst most in his school, yet he and Absinthe were the closest of people. They had met on the first of September in eighth grade, when they were forced into working with one another for a math project. As cliché as it seemed, there was little they could do to change it. Fate had brought them together for one simple reason. Fractions.

At first, their personalities clashed in their battle of sexes, yet was demolished as they realized their few differences were not compared to their countless similarities. They would eventually make up from this, no matter their hard heads. Despite it all, they soon grew close, and each day, Jack grew more outrageous as the days past, though that was one of the things Absinthe most loved. His thrive to live life to its fullest capability. Something she craved to have, but their was little outlet to.

“Hello?” Her near monotonous voice questioned to the chiming of the tone, her phone held to her ear as though the device was a ticking bomb.

“New phone, who dis?” A low, though quite snotty, voice replied. A voice that Absinthe had known from just the mere tsk from the lips, one that wasn’t as crude or malicious as it really seemed, if you’d look just a little deeper into the picture.

“You do realize you cannot respond when I am the one who has answered your call.” She scoffed, clearly annoyed by the boy. Though the smile stretched across her face would have said otherwise, in my opinion.

“You got me there, broski.” A chuckle escaped Jack’s lips, causing Absinthe’s heart to skip, something it was already prone to. “So, how’s sleep away camp going for you?”

Absinthe stepped into the near-crowding aisle, pulling her bag alongside her, keeping pace with the conversation. The quick tongued Jack had nothing on her crude comebacks. “Firstly, I would not consider it to be a sleep away camp. Secondly, I believe you frankly do not care for how it is going.”

“Someone’s a little sassy this morning! Rawr.” He teased. What was worse that he had made a reference to his very own phases and transformations in character; a goth one at that. Well, he’d prefer not to talk about it.

“I despise you.” That was most definitely a lie.

“I love you too, best friend! Well, I guess I should go... seeing as you hate me!” His voice fade into a dark abyss, leaving static in its place of what once was lovely and lyrical. It was truly a pity.

“No, I—“

As the phone call ended in the ringing of the dial, Absinthe sighed, allowing the words that had been bubbling upon her lips for years to be released. It was something that shouldn’t have been said in the middle of a cluttered bus, but the large amount of shouting hid this forbidden, though earnest secret: “I love you more.”

Unfortunately, these feelings happened to be one-sided, contributing toward her commonly used habits, which was no help. It was, for what she had believed, her escape from this cruel world. She could not see the good in her, rather the bad. Her body, her face, her IQ. Everything had failed her. Why have hope now? She wouldn’t, and couldn’t, be loved, yet she was to accept it. Nothing else could go wrong then, you’d assumed. She was being taught to live without him. No matter how heartbroken she would be in the end.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the call of the bus driver, “Hey, you! Yeah, you! The blonde in the back! You getting off this bus, or am I taking you back home to the wife?”

Absinthe was warped into reality, finding herself standing amidst an empty vehicle. While consumed in thought, the doors of the bus had opened, which caused a calamity of teenagers to rushed to what they believed to be a safe haven. “What is it, kid? I’m not gonna wait here all day!”

She nodded toward the man, gathered her luggage, and stalked through the aisle, apologizing to him for her lack of focus before trotting down the steps. She turned her head away from the sun, cursing herself for her lack of attention. She typically wasn’t like this, but with Jack’s voice consuming her thoughts, there was little to do about it. Once the doors to the bus had closed, she turned her attention toward the registry cabin, and onward.

_ _ _

The registry cabin was located at the front of the camp, a large building of maple logs the size of a slightly smaller soccer field. The walls were lined with maps of Maine and was surprisingly quite vacant, as Absinthe assumed a majority of the campers were severe offenders of the law. She was the second to walk into the building, though she had been pushed farther from the building by a boy she could only recognize by his dark hair. For whatever he was doing, he was in quite the rush to do it.

“No excuse me, I suppose?” She muttered beneath her breath.

As she approached the desk labeled Camp Register, she noticed something quite off about the entire thing. There was only one desk. She would have to wait in line, but was more burdened by the fact to stand behind such a rude person. She could see him more clearly now, noticing he was even just a bit taller than her, approximately an inch taller, just possibly. He seemed to have quite nice hair to, which was what shut Absinthe down completely. Wasn’t it rude herself to stare?

The woman behind the counter appeared to be average, with long black hair and the face of an average young woman. Her name tag read Polly, a grin stretching across her face at the sight of newcomers.

“Good day, Mr. Lee!” The woman chirped to the boy. She peeked just around him and waved to Absinthe. “Hello!”

“Hello.” Absinthe replied, shifting from where she stood, she could not reciprocate the enthusiasm of her.

“Name?”

“Absinthe Carter.” Absinthe cleared her throat and spoke, her voice no louder than a whisper. Or maybe it was, the air conditioning was deafening in the room.

The woman nodded toward the teens once hearing their names, and her chair swiveled toward a metal cabinet full of papers, resumes, and camp applications. The tapping of a computer keyboard could be heard, suggesting that Polly was not alone. Yet, she seemed far more occupied in sifting through her file cabinet.

She yanked a sheath of paper from cabinet and returned to the the boy, holding the paper as though it were a trophy. “Cabin B! Just take a right once you exit and then you’ll see it! Make sure to pick up a tee-shirt in the gift shop! Free of charge!”

The woman returned again to the large filing cabinet, ruffling through the leafy thin paper like it was something not to be handled lightly.

“Ah! Found it! Absinthe Carter, Cabin A,” her eyes narrowed at the text. “Okay! Looks like you’re all signed up, consider yourself registered!”

“May I ask for a map? Or directions to this cabin?” Absinthe questioned, seemingly annoyed at the woman’s overly joyous personality.

“Here!” Polly plucked a pamphlet from her desk, holding it to Absinthe’s grasp. “Tee-shirts can be found in the gift shop next door! They’re free for newcomers! Have a nice day!”

Absinthe took the slip of paper, and was directed toward a small room from yards away, her eye drifting throughout the room. The room was full of Camp Lake Lodge items, from mugs to bottles for a newborn. Hanging upon a plentiful rack of clothes, was the camp shirts. The color of burgundy, with the golden logo of it. She was uncertain of the sleeves, yet found beside them a longer-sleeved version, which appealed to her rather the latter.

Absinthe stared at herself in the changing room mirror, disgusted at her figure. She had selected an extra-small in the size, yet felt as though she was too large to wear such a thing. In reality, the shirt was far too large on her, yet she failed to see it. She rolled the sleeves to her elbows, revealing dozen of cuts upon her arms, deep and some to the point of near infection. It was sickly to witness that they hadn’t healed like she wished they would. Suddenly, there was a bump from outside her stall door. By instinct, like when her parents would barge into her room on occasion, she pulled down the sleeves, stole a glance at the mirror once more, and had decided that purchasing an extra-large in size fit her best.

Afterward, she changed and exited the stall, camp shirt in hand, in the direction of the exit, her head lowered to the mahogany floor, refusing meet the gaze of the young man just a few feet over.

conquer | from | within

 

[Twin Fantasy]

STOP THE TAPE!

tim hartley

this kid needs to be locked away!

☌

/ search

Buses never really just stop, do they? They always have to grind to an immense, slow halt. They always have to prolong the inevitable. It wasn't good or kind, if anything it was sort of a dick move. But they didn't really care. They were machines, and machines didn't need or want to think.

Tim was unceremoniously ushered out of the bus with his things and shoved towards registry. This place felt naked compared to Detroit. Like they just released a bunch of kids in the middle of nowhere to fend for themselves, and eat bugs, and kill each other. All of the buildings were squat little cabins that hung low to the ground, including the registry. In a perfect world Tim would have a whole cabin to himself. Maybe he'd pimp the place out a little, make it look a bit less like he was living in an episode of Naked and Afraid. There was some girl in front of him. Named Absinthe, apparently, like the bright green booze that the beat poets drank. Shit was so powerful it was basically considered poison. Clearly her parents never thought of that. Or maybe they did. Tim's brother was named after booze.

He contemplated shoving past her and burying her face in the dirt just to get back in bed as fast as possible, but that was really unnecessary. Frankly, the more time he spent on line, the less he'd have for whatever Jesus-y camp activities this place no doubt had planned. Soon enough he was up.

"Tim Hartley." He spoke to the lady. "Folks call me Li'l Tim, you prob'ly heard of me."

"I haven't." The woman was all too honest. Her name tag spelled out 'POLLY' in black, sans-serif lettering. "You'll be in Cabin B. Be sure to pick up a t-shirt at our gift shop for free, it's right nextdoor."

"What kind of correctional camp has a gift shop?"

"This one." Polly stated, all too matter-of-factly. Satisfied with that answer for now, Tim left to go get a free shirt. They had way more than just shirts, Tim was nearly disgusted by the horrific consumerist nature of it all. How desperate were they to make money? He took the smallest men's size that he could find, and it was still a bit big for him. Tim chalked it up to weird sizing. Whatever, maybe he'd sleep in it or something. At the very least it looked relatively comfortable, if ugly.

Clad in a sweater and, as the name suggests, sweating a bit, he joined the small group of new people just outside. That Absinthe girl, and some Asian kid with a bowl cut. Tim didn't have any plans to engage with them. He put his music back on.

Without Me was no doubt a classic. He loved it. He'll always love it. He'd oughtta get a quote from this one on his other arm.

tags​

final girl. kouzcy

code by @pasta​

 

[kouzcy]

[div class=container]

⠀♡coded by uxie♡

[div class=sidebar][div class=border1]

[/div][div class=name]LEE JAE-WOON.[/div][div class=info style=display:none][div class=scroll2]location: camp lake lodge.
mood: sad and angry.
mentions: final girl.
outfit: HERE
[/div][/div][div class=border2]

[/div][/div][div class=content][div class=scroll1]click on the small picture underneath his name.

Jae-Woon , as this so-called lady named 'Polly' was looking for his paper, he found his eyes adverting over to Absinthe. He looked away when he was given his paper, and he left quickly, contemplating whether or not to throw it away, because he could care less about this whole stupid camp thing. He hated the idea, he hated this so much, but he didn't want to go back home. Anything but that. He looked at the paper, and he sighed. He was in Cabin B apparently.

But then he remembered what the lady had said about the shirt in the gift shop that was free of charge. He scoffed at first but then he looked down at the paper in one of his hands in his bag in the other. It wouldn't hurt to go right? Instead of intimidation, his eyes showed slight nervousness, and he pulled his eyebrows in as he tried to look for the gift shop. When he spotted the sign, he started to walk over to it, holding that bag full of clothes was beginning to get tiring and it would be nice to put it down so he could look for some clothes. Once he got to the gift shop, he opened up the door, struggling slightly but he hoped nobody had saw that.

He walked inside and he put his bag down near the entrance, and he sighed quietly, stretching out his arms and cracking his knuckles. He looked around the small gift shop, and he tilted his head slightly, whispering under his breath as he looked. He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard someone approaching him from behind, which was apparently Tim. He acted like he didn't just freak out, and he continued looking through the racks of clothes. He felt color creep onto his cheeks from sheer embarrassment, which was hard to tell from all that bruising on hs face.

He rummaged through his back pocket to check how much money he had gathered and brought with him, twenty only.. Let's just hope there's some rich kids at this correctional camp that he can make friends with. He chuckled softly at the thought, and he licked the side of his lip so he could taste the metallic blood that still lingered there. He found himself grabbing a red short sleeved shirt, and he had decided to try it on, because he knew some sizes differentiated depending on where you were at. He went into the dressing room, because he sure as hell just wasn't going to take off his shirt with other people in the gift shop.

He closed the door and he took off the shirt he had on at the time and he sighed quietly, looking at himself in the mirror before pulling the other shirt over his head, it was a nice fit, he thought. He didn't stay in the dressing room for too long, so it wasn't long before he pulled that shirt off and put his original shirt back on, opening the door and going up to the door, retrieving his bag, and leaving as well.
[/div][/div]
[/div]

[class=container] --bg-color-1:#000; --bg-color-2:#afaeae; --color-1: #4c4c4c; --color-2: #ff7caa; --t-color: #3d2427; --img-1: url('http://i67.tinypic.com/acq2wy.png'); --img-2: url('https://i.pinimg.com/564x/3f/4f/d4/3f4fd4af16f4b591ae43f0863d4d3612.jpg'); height:320px; width:400px; margin:auto; position:relative; [/class] [class=sidebar] height:300px; width:160px; background-color: var(--bg-color-1); float:left; border-top-left-radius:3px; border-bottom-left-radius:3px; [/class] [class=content] height:284px; width:230px; background-color: var(--bg-color-2); float:left; border-top-right-radius:3px; border-bottom-right-radius:3px; padding:5px; padding-top:8px; padding-bottom:8px; overflow:hidden; text-align:justify; font-size:10px; [/class] [class=scroll1] height:100%; width:90%; overflow-y:auto; padding-right:40px; color: var(--t-color); margin-left:8px; [/class] [class=scroll2] height:100%; width:110%; overflow-y:auto; padding-right:40px; color: var(--t-color); [/class] [class=border1] height:95px; width:95px; border-radius:50%; border:1px solid var(--color-1); padding:5px; margin:auto; margin-top:15px; transition:0.4s; [/class] [class name=border1 state=hover] transform: scale(1.05); transition:0.4s; [/class] [class=name] font-size:18px; color:white; text-shadow: 2px 2px var(--color-1); text-align:center; margin:auto; margin-top:2px; font-weight:bold; letter-spacing:1px; [/class] [class=info] height:69px; width:124px; margin:auto; background-color: var(--bg-color-2); margin-top:5px; padding:3px; color: var(--t-color); font-size:10px; overflow:hidden; [/class] [class=border2] height:42px; width:42px; border-radius:50%; border:1px solid var(--color-1); padding:3px; margin:auto; margin-top:10px; transition:0.4s; position:relative; top:0px; [/class] [class name=border2 state=hover] transform: scale(1.05); transition:0.4s; cursor: pointer; [/class] [script class=border2 on=click] slideToggle 800 info [/script] [class=dialogue] display:inline-block; color: var(--color-1); [/class] [class=alt] display:inline-block; background-color:var(--color-2); min-height:20px; width: calc(100% - 10px); padding:5px; [/class]

 

[thinking]

final girl. kouzcy erzulie Twin Fantasy Queen.
KIRA RAE REISE
MOOD: UNSTABLY MANIC


Wow. That dude’s fit. Fit as a fiddle, yet not attractive, yuck. the first thought that swirled around Kira’s brain when she set eyes on the boy with a mop of wild black hair. She couldn't help but stare, she was like that; nosey and intrusive. She could pop a personal bubble without even touching it! Curiosity always killed the cat, when she couldn’t help but noticed he was looking at her! She scowled, poking her tongue out playfully, before the bus ground to a dishevelling halt!
—
On her way out of cragged, steaming hunk of metal, she took a huge gust of fresh air, throwing the butt of her cigarette on the floor. It wasn’t until she noticed the mile-long (only about four other people) queue! Cowabunga! Huffing and shuffling on her feet, the hypomanic and impatient girl’s agitation only grew when the she saw a fair blonde and a boy with raven hair clamber in front of her, their miserable faces extremely obvious. It was difficult to make a joke out of shit like this but for Kira, her heightened mood fluttered in her chest, a moth head-banging a lightbulb without a care in the world. Gotta get the lightbulb gotta get the lightbulb! Why was she thinking that? Gotta get it— gotta get it. The racing thoughts caused her body to react and she began to tremble with anxious-excitement. This was what happened when she was manic. A cycle of her moods where never ending. It was most possible she would not sleep for a few days and of course her irritability will be higher than the sky a price that was paid for the amazing mood. But who cared when you felt like the top of the world? All these kids, they know nothing— the darn RATS!

“Bam motherfuckers, it’s Kira Rae!” A high-pitched voice echoed in her ear, it was amazing, to be spoken too like a god. Wait, no god’s were one of her biggest fears. “They’re watching you!”
“OH FUCK OFF!” Kira screamed into the air, ignoring the presumed glances that she received. “Now, what the choco-fudge-cakes are you lot looking at!” This girl, Kira, had a load to say for herself, what a strange bitch she was.

After the introduction, and a little calming down from a valium pill that was forced down her throat, she cooly strode over to the freebies. She was a sucker for free crap. Her room was cluttered with collected with business-etched pens, flyers and vouchers. Still jittery in her step, the greasy girl pulled out the largest shirt size she could. Of course, Kira chose to wear a white, long-sleeved something underneath the large shirt. The burgundy fabric covered her thighs and the soft white lenin of her shirt hung loosely on her arms. Her lanky figure wore the shirt like a dress. Elongated, jutting arms swung out. She wasn’t one to cut, no, not anymore. It didn’t hurt, she needed to feel pain. Real pain. So she chose to purposely bruise. The dark purple-green swelling popped up like a hill on her right arm. It was a fuzzy-numb sort of pain, a metaphor for how she really felt inside.

Shaking off the thoughts of her own self-harm, she collectively noticed the fellow blonde she saw earlier. Saying fellow, the girl’s roots where practically leaking with black stains of her natural hair, but Kira still considered herself a blonde at heart. She was standing in a crowd of kids, around her age.
“Yo, what shook you lot getting yourself into this mess?” She noticed a boy with a rather swollen cheek, this kid that looked very similar to Eminen. That’s pretty coolio. Her cracked bottom lip curled downward into a musing frown. “Parent’s couldn't afford real correction therapy?” Kira suggested, a mocking hint slathering her tongue. She held her arms out besides her like a robot, mechanically rocking them up and down. Couldn’t help but look at the positive’s, especially in a mindset like this.
“You’re a crazy motherfucker.” Somebody giggled in her ear.
“Whoooo said that then?” Nobody, of course, it was all inside her exploding head. Kira’s eye twitched slightly, the pink rims around them creating them to be rabid. This girl was unpredictable at best, though fun as eating a sour warhead. Shaking off the previous accusation with a flicker of her hair short hair, Kira smiled pretentiously. “I apologise for being so rude, I’m Kira.” She told the misery-struck group showing her rather yellow teeth, a reminder of how she smoked bucket loads. “What a joke? Giving away merchandise for a place like this. People must be deluded to buy this crap.” Kira was talking one-hundred miles per hour, her rough, coarse voice the only thing that made the speech audible.

​

 

[Radio_Rat66.6]

Crystal was curled up into a ball in the backseat as she was taken to the camp. They were afraid of what she'd do if they put her on a bus. She was holding her stuffed duck and playing with it while her parents drove.
"Where are we going?"
She looked between the seats at her parents.
"We're taking you to a summer camp, Sweetheart. They'll help you."
Crystal threw her stuffed duck at the back of her mother's head.
"I don't need help! I'm fine!"
Crystal screamed at her parents, knowing she was fine how she was. There was nothing wrong with her. She ended up screaming at her parents the whole way. They would hand her back her stuffed duck to help calm her down, but she'd just throw it right back at them. If she wasn't buckled in she'd have been hitting at them. Eventually they got to the camp and Crystal had calmed down, opting to curl back up into a ball. Only this time when her dad opened the door to let her out she remained curled up. He unbuckled her and pulled her out of her seat. She refused to stand and instead sat on the floor.
"Stand up right now, Crystal. Do you want to look like a child in public?"
Crystal refused to answer. She just sat in her spot, curled in on herself.
"Crystal LeAnne! Get up now!"
Her dad grabbed her by her arm and pulled her up. Crystal screamed at him, no words in particular, just screaming.
"This camp will be good for you, Lee Bear."
"No! I don't need help!"
"Honey, you've been yelling at us for trying to help you."
"Cause I don't need help!"
Crystal beat on her father's arm with the one he wasn't holding.
"Just leave me alone!!"
She pushed her dad away and grabbed her suitcase, marching towards the camp. She didn't want to go, but it got her away from her parents. That was better than anything at the moment.​

 

[mikaluvkitties]

AARON OLLILA
TAGS: N/A​

Aaron's father was saying something, though that was nothing new. He ignored him, looking out at the bus stop they stood in front of, positive whatever his father was saying was on some level offensive. Again: nothing new.

A ghost of an ache remained in Aaron's wrist, the sting on his face much more recent. That didn't matter, and he barely noticed, busy savoring the opportunity to completely disregard his father's words. Usually, this simple act of rebellion would result in the minimum of a slap across the face, though Aaron was growing used to those. His father wouldn't dare so much as raise his voice in public, however, which meant Aaron would face no consequences for this latest resistance.

It also meant he could let his thoughts drift. He wasn't looking forward to going to Maine- it was colder than what he was now used to, though seeing as sweat beaded down Aaron's back, gathering in places Aaron could do nothing about, that wasn't unusual. He shifted, hands brushing down the dark winter green dress his father had picked out for him to wear today subconsciously. He glanced down at it, distaste obvious before he abruptly looked back up.

He wasn't going to think about the dress, or the bras his father had bought him after trashing his binder. If he thought about that, he might once again become overwhelmed, and he refused to let anyone see him overwhelmed.

After what felt like an eternity of his father talking at him, growing increasingly agitated, the bus arrived, and Aaron took his bag from his father without so much as a thank you before trying to board.

"What, no hug for your old man?"

Refusing to respond to his father while he couldn't make him, Aaron boarded the bus without a hug.

He spent the journey looking out the window, thinking, and sleeping, wishing he had something he could carve into the bus with. He missed his knife.

As the drab scenery gave way to lush greenery, Aaron perked up minutely, staring more. He had missed trees, and didn't bother paying much attention to the signs he passed by.

As the bus finally came to a stop, he took a second to steel himself.

At least I am not with my father, he thought to himself, standing and taking his bag before exiting.

Immediately, he headed to the registration cabin, almost sighing when he saw the line. He got into it, fighting the urge to fiddle with his clothing. The names droned on, but Aaron ignored them.

Finally, he stepped forward, giving his name- his real one, not the one given to him at birth. He refused to go back into the closet, no matter how difficult his father was trying to make it. "Aaron Ollila."

The woman, who a look at the name tag revealed to be named Polly, frowned as she looked for his name. "I'm not seeing you here, dear..."

Aaron bit his cheek, contemplating how to respond for a moment before replying, "Check for a Frida."

Realization passed over Polly's features as she found the name. "Found you! ...You're trans, yeah?"

Aaron's eyes widened a bit, and he nodded, face as flat as he could keep it.

"I'm so sorry, your parents didn't inform me. I'll get you in the right cabin right away. For now, here's a pamphlet"- she passed it to Aaron calmly enough- "and newcomers get a free shirt from the gift shop right next door."

Aaron was frozen for a second. Finally, he nodded before exiting, fighting to keep his composure. That... had gone much better than he had expected. He was still riding the high of it all when he entered the shop, immediately going to find a small short sleeved shirt in the men's section. As he was wandering over to the men's shirts, however, he saw it.

A pocket knife.

His gaze flicked around coolly, trying to see if he could see a camera, wandering over calmly to the display. He looked it over, considering. He'd get in trouble if he got caught, but that just meant he did his best not to get caught.

Confident, he took the knife, then went to the shirts, grabbing a small and heading to the dressing room.

He really did try on the shirt, and, once sure it fit, he shoved the knife in his bag with the shirt before exiting the shop. He noticed a group of others around his age that appeared to be talking, and decided to approach. Silent, he stood by the edge of the group, expression blank as he listened to one of the girls speak.

 

[erzulie]

Name | Aaliyah Wilson
Outfit | X
Location | Registry
Tags | None

Aaliyah waited patiently for the campers to gather around. She didn’t really know what the staff was thinking, making her greet the newbies and ask any of their questions. Maybe they believed that she’d changed since last time or that she’d behave since it was only the first day. Apparently they’d forgotten that she hadn’t made it off the bus before she’d gotten into a fight during her first summer in camp. Aaliyah looked over the campers, she watched their faces carefully. Some portrayed their anxiety and others anger. She supposed that it was her duty to put them at ease. Before she could say anything a girl with dyed blonde hair approached the group. Her mouth was on Usain Bolt. Her mannerism confirmed that she was probably one of the more...unhinged campers. “Yeah, hi.” She wanted to get this done as fast as possible. Aaliyah turned to address the group. “So, the employees thought that it’d be great if I personally welcome you all to the hell that is Camp Lake Lodge.”

Aaliyah crossed her arms over her chest. “This place is like how it was advertised. Prepare yourselves for what may be the worst summer of your lives. Now if the girls of Cabin A would follow me, I’ll show you to the our cel-I mean home.” Aaliyah ignored the look she received from one of the employees. Honestly she couldn’t expect her to do right. “And please, if you have any questions, hesitate to ask.” Aaliyah waited for her cabin mates to step forward or speak up or whatever. “Oh! And later I’ll be showing you guys around! Come or don’t, I don’t care either way. But if later you get eaten by bears because you got lost, it’s your own fault.”

 

[Queen.]

son·der

n.

the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own.​

Rowan Reed​

Gawking in the approximate orientation of the crowd, the mud-haired teen pocketed his flask out of sight and safely away in a jacket pocket. His nose twitched from a frigid wisp of air, tangling around his neck like lace. Rowan hadn't eaten a single crumb of food since the prior afternoon, and the alcohol climbed straight to his sinewy shoulders. It was fairly laborious for him to get a legitimate level of drunk. He primarily partook of it as a sort of... Muscle relaxer. And oh, did he have those too.

A hefty chunk of the other 'captured' individuals were combing through the gift shop, which he had only momentarily bobbed his head into. What was going on in there? Why is everyone leaving with a shirt?

Intrigue piqued, he paced towards the office that held the sign-in area, which he had checked himself reluctantly into about 20 minutes previous to the arrival of the bus. It was a touch gloomy and overcast out, just in one chunk of the sky; the only part he felt like centralizing his eyesight on until a roof gathered overhead. He peered to and fro, approaching the gift room. Colors like mosaics lined the shelves, exploding with fictitious exhibits of personalization and individuality. He gritted his teeth, glimpsing back toward the exit. He pushed through, feeling a detrimental case of black and white thinking flush over his afflicted brain.

Rowan scowled invisibly, trying to evade attention, much like the other camp-goers.

Some of these kids had expensive belongings. He furrowed a fuzzy brow in response as a girl with a music player stalked by, humming along to what was no doubt some stilted pop song. He was puzzled. He'd always been poor, so the concept of owning something worth having without swiping it was wholly unbeknownst to him. He wasn't huge on swiping most of the time, but the man had had his share in every crime it seemed.

A group of girls trailed after a girl with multi-braided hair, her skin a glistening bronze tint. Rowan averted his eyes. She appeared to be someone who carried some type of authority, considering her projecting voice scaling over the gaggle of curious and broken faces.

Rowan's chest ached with the type of pang that called for confiding in a friend. An associate. A family member. A co-worker, perhaps? It was then that he gathered how distressingly alone he was among hundreds of heads. Hundreds of voices. He slicked a hand through his directionless locks, eyeing down a platinum blonde before winking and smirking. She was rather willowy and reserved looking.

code by @pasta​

 

[final girl.]

ABSINTHE

tags: thinking ; erzulie ; Queen.

Waning light flooded through the small iron window of the gift shop, momentarily blinding Absinthe from the steps she stood upon. There wasn’t little to ruin her day than to be tortured as though she were a vampire on the lisp of dawn. It was an odd metaphor, yet there was no other analogies to put it together in a string of words to form a proper sentence. As though she had been staked through the heart, she stumbled up the steps in a rather quick motion, nearly tripping over her own feet in the process. It was, in a word, humiliating. Though many hadn’t seen it, she felt extremely self-conscious of herself. She was now prone to fits of darkness clogging her vision, now and again, yet had increased over the course of months. Her condition had worsened. People would undoubtedly notice at some point, and she was running out of logical reasons to spill. And of course, there was a man winking at her. Of bloody course. And it happened to be quite unsettling, in fact. In that moment, all she could do was look away.

Looking up from her vividly clean shoes, she locked eyes with a blonde girl, one smiling with plaqued teeth, yellow and a bit disturbing to witness before. Though there was a inviting look in her eye, one that somehow drew her closer to the circle of campers around her. Just close enough to be in the line of earshot, in hearing quite the authoritative, yet calm voice of another feminine camper, but not to appear as though she were interested. She stuck out like a sore thumb, a thin, lanky thumb, to be precise. She appeared much taller than the females, and most males, surrounding her. Her height was a curse and a blessing. She could never find the right pair of jeans. She was nothing but a skyscraper in a world of shops. And there was yet another metaphor that only the descendants of Shakespeare would comprehend.

Asking an introvert to socialize was like asking a saint to go to Hell.

When you’re socially awkward, much like Absinthe, you tend to be more isolated than usual, your creativity is less compromised has already been said and done. All the hope in your life then begins to depend on your craft, therefore you must protect it. The one reason Absinthe was more isolated than average person to keep her creativity as fierce as humanly possible. Being the odd one out may have temporary disadvantages, but more importantly, it had its permanent advantages.

Then.. there were the rumors they could have spread. A rumor was a social cancer: It is difficult to contain and it rots the brains of the masses. However, the real danger was that so many people found rumors enjoyable. That specific part causes the infection, or so Absinthe believed. In such cases when a rumor is only partially made of truth, it is difficult to pinpoint exactly where the information might have gone wrong. It is passed on and on until some brave soul would question its validity; that brave soul whom refuses to bite the apple and let the apple eat them. Forced to scratch for the sake of purity and truth, that brave soul, figuratively speaking, fully amputates the information in order to protect their personal judgment. In other words, their ignorance is to be valued more than a lie believed to be true.

It wasn't that she was necessarily avoiding in “socializing” with the growing group, of to the general population to broadcast that this was a personal preference, not a sentence to social leprosy.

Pondering her final thoughts, she was struck with a sick reality, Absinthe realized, her legs trembling in the largely aired room, was if there wasn’t a them, the liars, the cheats, the malicious and unwelcome, there couldn’t be an us.

conquer | from | within

 

[Twin Fantasy]

STOP THE TAPE!

tim hartley

this kid needs to be locked away!

☌

/ search

These people. Strangers.

Tim's eyes were wandering, the volume on his MP3 almost all the way up. He wanted to deafen himself. He didn't need anyone looking towards him. His freakish body, or for that matter, his horrible teeth. Jagged, with a few bashed clean out by his father. Human beings were just kind of gross. Despite his love of music, he hated being in the spotlight. Even though he wanted to feel important, wanted people to see him as important. But then he saw something.

A little somethin'-or-other just through the window of the shop. A tiny li'l thing. He hated these places, because god, all he wanted was to just frisk these bastards and take all their shit. It was a want, a need, somehow, to steal. He always kept a butterfly knife in his sweater. It was orange, looking like it was forged from lava. He spent months figuring out how to use the damn thing, but it was worth it. Tim had mugged people. He wasn't proud of it. But that was life, he was short on money and no way would he sell any of the things he'd absolutely wasted his salary on.

Regardless, this person looked edible, for lack of a better word.

Quickly, Tim shut his music off and wrapped his cheap headphones around his neck. He caught Aaron on his way out of the shop, grabbing inside of his stomach pocket. Even if he got caught, what's the worst they would do? Pray at him? They might take Ol' Pointy, but he'd fine a way to get it back regardless. Using expert physical maneuvers, Tim at least attempted to press Aaron in close to a wall before drawing his weapon.

"Gimme a- somethin'. 'r I'll gut ya, swear'n to god."

He spat when he talked. It was kind of gross, looking at his nasty spitty teeth-mouth. His eyes occasionally darted to the side, as the others seemed largely preoccupied. "Look man, you look like you got shit. I want shit. Hurry up." He jabbed the blade towards Aaron a bit as emphasis.

It's not like Aaron is armed too, right?

tags​

mikaluvkitties

code by @pasta​

 

[kouzcy]

[div class=container]

⠀♡coded by uxie♡

[div class=sidebar][div class=border1]

[/div][div class=name]LEE JAE-WOON.[/div][div class=info style=display:none][div class=scroll2]location: camp lake lodge.
mood: anxious.
mentions: erzulie
outfit: HERE
[/div][/div][div class=border2]

[/div][/div][div class=content][div class=scroll1]
Jae-Woon groaned as he heard Aaliyah's voice from afar. She was talking about newcomers, and as much as Jae-Woon didn't want to carry around this bag, or even go to the little meeting, circle-time whatever this was, he had to. If he was going to stay away from his parents, he might as well meet new people and have a good time while he was at it, because he'll probably never get this chance ever again. Nobody even probably wanted to talk to him because he looked a complete mess at the time, and there was still dried blood under his nose that he was yet to get off.

He heard the words 'Hell', that accompanied with 'Camp Lake Lodge.' He whispered curses under his breath in a completely different language and his eyes slightly widened. What if the camp wasn't all that it looked like it should be? What if this camp was just like his home, but just.. with other kids experiencing the same exact trauma? His mind raced and so did his heart as he tried to look normal among all the other kids. He looked to his side, and then he looked ahead, like he was suspicious about this whole entire thing.. Like how could you not be? The employees seemed annoyingly sweet, and the camp looked like a camp you would go to on a dramatic, or even childish television series.

He held his bag tightly in his hands, and it could be seen from ones eyes that he was growing anxious. His grip was visibly tightening on the handle of his black bag, and his fingers dug deeper into the red shirt he had in his opposite hand. His mind was replaying the same thoughts, and he couldn't seem to stop thinking, even though there was literally someone right in front of him trying to explain what this camp really was like, he was wondering off, in his own little world I guess I could say.

He was pulled back to reality, and it felt like he was being pulled back up to the surface from under the water. People might've been looking at him like he was crazy, and he hated the idea of eyes being on him. He decided to play cool for a little while longer, and then when they got to the cabins, he could think about his thoughts in his room, probably scrawl them down on a piece of paper. Unlike others, being alone with his thoughts actually made Woonie more calm.
[/div][/div]
[/div]

[class=container] --bg-color-1:#000; --bg-color-2:#afaeae; --color-1: #4c4c4c; --color-2: #ff7caa; --t-color: #3d2427; --img-1: url('http://i67.tinypic.com/acq2wy.png'); --img-2: url('https://i.pinimg.com/564x/3f/4f/d4/3f4fd4af16f4b591ae43f0863d4d3612.jpg'); height:320px; width:400px; margin:auto; position:relative; [/class] [class=sidebar] height:300px; width:160px; background-color: var(--bg-color-1); float:left; border-top-left-radius:3px; border-bottom-left-radius:3px; [/class] [class=content] height:284px; width:230px; background-color: var(--bg-color-2); float:left; border-top-right-radius:3px; border-bottom-right-radius:3px; padding:5px; padding-top:8px; padding-bottom:8px; overflow:hidden; text-align:justify; font-size:10px; [/class] [class=scroll1] height:100%; width:90%; overflow-y:auto; padding-right:40px; color: var(--t-color); margin-left:8px; [/class] [class=scroll2] height:100%; width:110%; overflow-y:auto; padding-right:40px; color: var(--t-color); [/class] [class=border1] height:95px; width:95px; border-radius:50%; border:1px solid var(--color-1); padding:5px; margin:auto; margin-top:15px; transition:0.4s; [/class] [class name=border1 state=hover] transform: scale(1.05); transition:0.4s; [/class] [class=name] font-size:18px; color:white; text-shadow: 2px 2px var(--color-1); text-align:center; margin:auto; margin-top:2px; font-weight:bold; letter-spacing:1px; [/class] [class=info] height:69px; width:124px; margin:auto; background-color: var(--bg-color-2); margin-top:5px; padding:3px; color: var(--t-color); font-size:10px; overflow:hidden; [/class] [class=border2] height:42px; width:42px; border-radius:50%; border:1px solid var(--color-1); padding:3px; margin:auto; margin-top:10px; transition:0.4s; position:relative; top:0px; [/class] [class name=border2 state=hover] transform: scale(1.05); transition:0.4s; cursor: pointer; [/class] [script class=border2 on=click] slideToggle 800 info [/script] [class=dialogue] display:inline-block; color: var(--color-1); [/class] [class=alt] display:inline-block; background-color:var(--color-2); min-height:20px; width: calc(100% - 10px); padding:5px; [/class]

 

[thinking]

final girl. kouzcy erzulie mikaluvkitties Queen.

KIRA RAE REISE
Riding an exhilarated over-weight pegasus, through the sky that was full of sickly candy floss clouds, scooping spoonfuls with both hands. The spiralling wisps of pink sugar disintegrating into Kira’s mouth, the candy acting as a stimulating drug. Heightening the lunacy that was visible in the girls eyes and absurd grin. Floating on a river of bliss, her heart skipped a few beats as she was giddy on the tomfoolery of the situation. Rainbows, colours, enhancing, every light shifting was a sparkle. The rich, emerald green trees of the outside, towering, the shafts of light that filtered through the windows. She could control the light, the colours, the emotions of the room. She was, her diabolic blasphemed delusion, told her that she was it. She was the one who was going to rescue these poor unfortunate souls from this crap-hole… She was GOD…!

An authoritative voice of the woman— no— girl burgled Kira’s limelight, startling her from her current rushing.
“Sir—I mean, yes ma’am!” Standing straight, holding her right hand in a salute, she span on her heel to face the welcoming voice of the girl. Kira’s ostentatious conducting nonsense was growing tiresome; tedious even, but it was impossible to hold back mania, the girl was in a dream. So, this place was a Hell. It was possible, Kira had her experience in psychiatric wards before but her mother had promised this would be nothing like those terrible places. Kira believed herself, a twisted version of reality, that she was an angel, rescuing these children. This girl’s eccentric behaviour was multiplying, breeding, for the matter. Apparent was everything, to the other delinquents, that Kira was seriously unwell, but it was obvious to the teen herself that these children around her were definitely not a-okay either.

Sound of grinding teeth spiked the air as Aaliyah introduced the camp. Despite being rather oblivious to what she was saying, Reise was actually taking note of the grudge that the woman with the braids held. Kira eyed her closely, it would be good to make friends with that one, she seemed to know the ins and outs of this dump. Before too long, turning her attention to the ill-looking girl, her sharp, angular face etched into a wall constructed of stone. She didn’t know what her name was, but Kira was sure that she knew exactly who she was from her wild introduction. Reise would not usually have an ounce of sympathy for a pretty girl like the platinum blonde. All these kids had got themselves into this mess, it was stupid enough to think that she could really help them. The only one who could was the experienced girl, Aaliyah.

Pursing her lips tightly into an ugly screwed up way, Kira exhaled, it wasn’t cold so the air didn’t create the translucent clouds. Nevertheless, the girl on the right hand side of her was shivering as if she was out in the Arctic— naked! Bless her… Though she couldn’t bring herself to make full eye contact, despite being externally confident, the hard outer shell protected a soft and gooey inside— she was just as terrified. Another boy was on the outskirts, being pinned up to a wall by the one that looked strikingly like one of her favourite rappers, and another with mud brown hair that she saw earlier.

Kira’s dark gaze then met the intimidating-yet-scared glare of Jae-Woon. She couldn’t fully make out his eyes under his fringe, but she could sense that he wanted to disappear into thin air. Kira was quick at reading people, the evidence that was snatched The bruising and sticky claret was a story that she could not guess, it made her stomach twist into the shape of a crude pretzel.

​

 

[mikaluvkitties]

AARON OLLILA
TAGS: Twin Fantasy ​

There were many things Aaron wasn't expecting to have to deal with today, and one of those things was being mugged. He had woken up expecting to stay home, and after finding out he would not be staying home, who would expect to be mugged at a camp for trou- On second thought, maybe he should have expected this.

No matter. He froze for a moment, glancing down at the knife, frowning. Aaron slowly reached into his bag- only to quickly pull out his own knife knife, flipping it open.

His gaze hardened and he sneered at the boy pinning him as he said, "Do it. I dare you."

 

[Queen.]

son·der

n.

the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own.​

Rowan Reed​

The sun-haired femme with a good sprout of length in her legs resounded to his gesture with a gnarled expression of perterbation. Somehow, it charmed him. He tended not to react to certain things in a traditional way, as he had heard from his audience many a times in the past. Still, some kind of roundabout voyage was clearly underway, a woman jutting out her words emphatically enough for everyone to pick up on. Even himself. He grunted something inaudible under his alcohol scented breath before popping a mint and weaving into the group of heads. He situated himself left to a girl of sallow hair, smiling mightily and potentially having issues focusing on the present.

Rowan straightened his back like he was adjacent to a wall, clearing his throat subtly as he could. It had been agitating him all morning. This would be a less than ideal time to provide housing to a cold. The tall, tipsy gent then proceeded to project his own voice, raising a question.

"Where do we go if we're starving?"

This much, he genuinely did not know. He didn't really have much of a grasp about what she was originally expressing to them, instead looking to serve his own ravenous interests. At least for right now. His stomach would have been screeching like a fox, had he not placed a mint upon his tongue to fool his gullet into thinking it would be nourished. On that thought, his eyes slid toward the skeletal girl to his right, just two people down.

His vision locked onto her with prying intrigue, wondering how she could have such large cartoon eyes. Perhaps it was his eyes distorting. Perhaps he was simply projecting his twisted interest onto someone who would never grant it back.

Avoiding any awkward moments, which he avidly ducked away from, Reed hid his face behind the other two crowd-goers and habitually cleared his throat a second time. Awaiting his answer from the figure of authority before them all, his lips climbed into a gentlemanly smile as he locked eyes with the girl up front.

code by @pasta​

 

[kouzcy]

[div class=container]

⠀♡coded by uxie♡

[div class=sidebar][div class=border1]

[/div][div class=name]LEE JAE-WOON.[/div][div class=info style=display:none][div class=scroll2]location: camp lake lodge.
mood: anxious + scared
mentions: final girl.
outfit: HERE
[/div][/div][div class=border2]

[/div][/div][div class=content][div class=scroll1]
Well, how about we throw keeping cool down the drain. Hearing people converse about the place, people that weren't newcomers.. people who knew what this place really did to kids.. made him more and more anxious.. more and more shaky than he once was. He closed his eyes for a minute, not that much could tell because his hair was a little over his eyes at the moment, and he took a deep breath. He figured he would have to find someone to talk to about this. Preferably.. someone new.. that was feeling the same that he was right now.

He saw that platinum haired girl he had saw before.. well everywhere really, because she seemed to be everywhere he went, and he looked at her for what seemed like a while, his eyes drilling into the back of her head before he actually pulled her aside. It was all in one motion, and he really didn't know what he was thinking when he did it, he just knew that he needed to have someone to talk to before he would actually drive himself slowly into insanity.

His eyes scanned her face, staring into her eyes for a minute before whispering, 'Kaiyo..' under his breath, which meant 'ocean' in Japanese. He then realized how tight he was gripping onto her wrist pulse and he moved his hand away from it rather quickly, rubbing it on his pants a little bit before he began speaking.
"Are.. are you having suspicions about the camp as well?" His voice was rather distinct, it was different that a whole lot of a peoples voice, probably because he had a Japanese accent so strong you probably couldn't tell half the words he was saying 80% of the time. And I'm pretty sure he probably pronounced suspicions wrong as well. "It might just be only me, but.. I just want to make sure I'm not crazy." He bit his lip slightly, forgetting that there was still blood right there and the wound could be opened if he bit down on it too hard. Yet, he was lucky, because he let go moments later, the wound thankfully not opening.


[/div][/div]
[/div]

[class=container] --bg-color-1:#000; --bg-color-2:#afaeae; --color-1: #4c4c4c; --color-2: #ff7caa; --t-color: #3d2427; --img-1: url('http://i67.tinypic.com/acq2wy.png'); --img-2: url('https://i.pinimg.com/564x/3f/4f/d4/3f4fd4af16f4b591ae43f0863d4d3612.jpg'); height:320px; width:400px; margin:auto; position:relative; [/class] [class=sidebar] height:300px; width:160px; background-color: var(--bg-color-1); float:left; border-top-left-radius:3px; border-bottom-left-radius:3px; [/class] [class=content] height:284px; width:230px; background-color: var(--bg-color-2); float:left; border-top-right-radius:3px; border-bottom-right-radius:3px; padding:5px; padding-top:8px; padding-bottom:8px; overflow:hidden; text-align:justify; font-size:10px; [/class] [class=scroll1] height:100%; width:90%; overflow-y:auto; padding-right:40px; color: var(--t-color); margin-left:8px; [/class] [class=scroll2] height:100%; width:110%; overflow-y:auto; padding-right:40px; color: var(--t-color); [/class] [class=border1] height:95px; width:95px; border-radius:50%; border:1px solid var(--color-1); padding:5px; margin:auto; margin-top:15px; transition:0.4s; [/class] [class name=border1 state=hover] transform: scale(1.05); transition:0.4s; [/class] [class=name] font-size:18px; color:white; text-shadow: 2px 2px var(--color-1); text-align:center; margin:auto; margin-top:2px; font-weight:bold; letter-spacing:1px; [/class] [class=info] height:69px; width:124px; margin:auto; background-color: var(--bg-color-2); margin-top:5px; padding:3px; color: var(--t-color); font-size:10px; overflow:hidden; [/class] [class=border2] height:42px; width:42px; border-radius:50%; border:1px solid var(--color-1); padding:3px; margin:auto; margin-top:10px; transition:0.4s; position:relative; top:0px; [/class] [class name=border2 state=hover] transform: scale(1.05); transition:0.4s; cursor: pointer; [/class] [script class=border2 on=click] slideToggle 800 info [/script] [class=dialogue] display:inline-block; color: var(--color-1); [/class] [class=alt] display:inline-block; background-color:var(--color-2); min-height:20px; width: calc(100% - 10px); padding:5px; [/class]

 

[erzulie]

Name | Aaliyah Wilson
Outfit | X
Location | Camp Lake Lodge
Tags | final girl. , Queen. , kouzcy , thinking

Aaliyah could see most of the campers losing interest. She couldn’t blame them, it wasn’t like she had wanted to welcome them. Instead she had planned on chilling out in her room and updating her fellow returning campers on her antics with her gang. “No questions? Great.” She was just about to escape when she heard a question directed herself. The young woman turned back and scanned the crowd, wondering who asked when she’d said to hesitate too. Aaliyah spotted the unhinged girl from before, but she seemed to be focused on something else. A rather skinny girl stood out next but Aaliyah watched as she was pulled away by someone with fluffy looking black hair. She wondered what would happen if she tried to touch it.

“If you’re hungry, you can head over to the mess hall. The food it shit but it’ll fill you up. It’s not that far actually it’s about a twelve minute walk from the dorms...” Aaliyah continued to look through the crowd until she locked eyes with someone who she could only describe as a grown man, an attractive one at that. Aaliyah stared in equal parts curiosity and thirst. At times like these she wished that she hqd some way to call up her best friend. They enjoyed admiring living art whenever a specimen presented themselves. “But like I said before, I’m being forced to give a tour. I’ll show you newbies around then.” Aaliyah adjusted her half camisole and crossed her arms over her chest. “Is there anything else before I leave to enjoy this hell on earth.” Aaliyah returned the stranger’s smile with a grin of her own.

 

[final girl.]

ABSINTHE

tags: kouzcy

Absinthe’s mind was running, no doubt. Racing, more precisely. Racing in circles, like a gerbil on a wheel. Chasing every rung of possibility, yet still getting her to absolutely nowhere near a logical explanation to what she was experiencing. It wasn’t normal. Her vision was consumed in large black spots, clinging onto the little light left in the room. Figures were blotches of color and faces were as though faded out of the picture. When attempting to take a step toward, it felt like her feet were glued to the ground. The rumbling in her stomach had long since vanished, but its effects of malnutrition due to o lack of eating was kicking in. It did often than not. And of course, at the worst of moments.

Her bones felt as though they were on scalding fire. A tingling sensation creeping up her spine like the spindles of the spider, pins and needles on the skin. Absinthe now leaned more heavily onto the wall, as if it were her only support. This only lasted a moment longer, as she pushed her self, pushed herself to stand on her own two legs. She wobbled for a moment, before settling her left foot forceably upon the wooden paneling, stabling herself once more.

Or so she had thought.

Before she had a moment to comprehend what was happening around her, a vigorous grip was placed to her slender wrist, pulling her away from the out periphery of the large, and noticeably peculiar, group of campers. Just when she was getting oh so comfortable, too. Cue the sarcasm. Absinthe blinked the dots from her vision, finding herself face to face with someone she recognized all too well. Someone she held a grudge to. She glanced down at his hand, seeing that her own was then turning an almost sickly shade of purple. Then, the hand had almost let go as quickly as it had grabbed her.

Wriggling her fingers to gain a bit of feeling in them, Absinthe tilt her head ever so slightly to look Mr. Lee in the eye. Her prior hypothesis had been correct, she was almost just as tall as he was. In a way, it was a bit more comforting than having someone loom from above you. She could see him much more clearly, as they were only about five inches away from each other.

If she hadn’t seen his eyes before, she could definitely see them now. The dark orbs had been staring right into hers, and for a quick second, there silence between them. Their hue was flecked with possibly another color of some sort, as it reminded her of beach pebbles, for some reason. It was an odd comparison, but it was the first to pop into her mind.

When he spoke, Absinthe had noticed immediately, that their was a distinctive accent coating his words, one that was not of this country. Was it... Japanese? She had little time to ponder this, as her mouth opened, and words began to flow out like a leaking faucet. “Um,” she replied, her voice still as bland and tasteless as it was just moments before, “I suppose so. Why do you ask?”

conquer | from | within

 

[Twin Fantasy]

STOP THE TAPE!

tim hartley

this kid needs to be locked away!

☌

/ search

This kid. Looked like a tiny girl in a dress. Wasn't scary. Tim couldn't have predicted what happened next at all, because usually the guys who pulled knives on him were tall and matured and dressed a little bit like him. This? This was different.

He wasn't sure what to say. He was... impressed.

"Suh, dude. Is that from the gift shop?" He motioned towards the gift shop. "Did you bring dough or did you like... steal it." He looked down over his button nose, visibly impressed. "You fuckin' threw me for a loop, lady. I was convinced you'd just puss out an' scream! It seemed so easy."

He closed up his butterfly knife and put it away.

"I like you. My name's Tim. Y'think you would'a really cut me open if I kept goin'? That'd be badass. What's your name?" Tim was still weirdly close, probably not wanting anyone to hear what he was saying. God forbid they think he'd gone soft. "You live in Detroit, bub? You act like it, man, you crazy."

tags​

mikaluvkitties

code by @pasta​