Realistic or Modern Bittersweet

[Sicarius]

[class=bkgd] position: relative; box-sizing: border-box; width: 400px; height: 500px; background-color: #414141 ; overflow: hidden; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; border: 10px solid #0b1003; border-radius: 2%; [/class] [class=bkgdpic] position: absolute; box-sizing: border-box; width: 400px; height: 500px; background: url(http://pluspng.com/img-png/black-and-white-city-png-black-white-wallpaper-1600.png); background-size: 100%; opacity: 0.25; overflow: hidden; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; [/class] [class=bkgdgif] position: relative; box-sizing: border-box; width: 100%; height:100%; background: url(https://imgur.com/FY5BCnc.gif); background-size: 100%; opacity: 0.25; overflow: hidden; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; [/class] [class=pic] position: relative; overflow: hidden; width: 150px; height: 150px; top: 5%; text-align: center; background: url(https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcS8BblXmQj5-64CtOS9LlI1ZGi2CD5SgqVqMvWHCApeQk1zd-Wj&s); background-size: 95%; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; border-radius: 50%; border: 2px solid #fbfbfb; [/class] [class=pictext] position: absolute; overflow: hidden; width: 100%; height: 100%; top: -2px; left: -2px; background-color: #8f8f8f; color: #8f8f8f; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; border-radius: 50%; border: 2px solid #fbfbfb; font-size: 10px; font-weight: 500; line-height: 14px; [/class] [class=hidden] display:none; [/class] [script class=pic on=mouseenter] fadeIn 0500 pictext [/script] [script class=pic on=mouseleave] fadeOut 0500 pictext [/script] [class=textcontainer] position: relative; overflow: hidden; width: 294px; height: 245px; background-color: #060606; border: 2px solid #fbfbfb; top: -7%; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; border-radius: 2%; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; line-height: 10px; color: #890000; [/class] [class=text] position: relative; overflow: auto; width: 301px; height: 250px; top: 0%; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; line-height: 11px; color: #890000; padding: 5px; [/class] [class=name] position: relative; font-size: 65px; font-weight: 500; color: #890000 ; top: -8%; text-align: center; transform: rotate(-10deg); [/class] [class=credit] position: relative; opacity: 0.7; overflow: hidden; text-align: center; font-family: Segoe UI; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; color: #fff; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; [/class] [div class=bkgd] [div class=bkgdpic] [div class=bkgdgif][/div] [/div] [div class=pic] [div class="pictext hidden"]
outfit: xxx

mood: bitter

interactions: xxx [/div] [/div] [div class=name]Bittersweet[/div] [div class=textcontainer][div class=text]New York City. A place where over eight million people reside.

In our modern society today, crime is forever rampant. However, said crime seldom ever goes without consequence. With the use of technology and advanced analytical methods, most crimes can be traced to the offender; making it very difficult for one to get away with any mischievous deeds.

However, there have been a string of murders which occurred fairly recently. The deaths have been hard to connect, but are undoubtedly linked. The most perplexing aspect of these serial killings, is the fact that the killer has been virtually untraceable. Despite best efforts from the local police, there have been no leads produced. Now the FBI has stepped in, with young prodigy investigator Chance Ryder at the forefront.

The killer is smart. Careful. Thoughtful. Patient. Clever. Little has been revealed through the actions of said killer, and it is up to Chance Ryder to use his deductive skills in determining a proper lead. Unbeknownst to both Ryder and the FBI, the killer is none other than a beautiful and enticing young woman named Aria Keres. She's an eccentric character, one who would be able to give the cynical Ryder a hard time. Although... this is merely the tip of the iceberg.

Ryder and Keres are both very very significant, and very, very single. Both had run into issues in the dating world due to their unique personalities, and as result they have made themselves vulnerable by joining the online dating app "Tinder". It is through cruel fate that the two have matched, and will have their first date. Neither is aware of the other's "occupation", and feelings seem to begin to form as the two manage to have chemistry. What were to happen if these two find themselves in a serious relationship? What were to happen if they find out who they really are?

Needless to say, the result would be.... Bittersweet.


[/div][/div] [div class=credit]code by sox[/div][/div]

 

[Kipsy]

[class=container]width: 600px; height: 450px; margin: auto;[/class] [class=holder]box-shadow: 2px 2px 30px #262626; position: absolute; width: 600px; height: 450px; background-color: #f3f3f3; border-radius: 6px; overflow: hidden;[/class] [class=contents]position: absolute; top: 20px; left: 20px; width: 410px; height: 450px;[class] [class=top]position: absolute; width: 410px; height: 160px; border-bottom: 1px solid #bbb;[/class] [class=toppic]position: absolute; top: 0; left: 0; height: 140px; width: 200px; background-color: #A46360 ; padding: 10px;[/class] [class=topinfo]position: absolute; width: 190px; height: 143px; right: -20px; top: 0; padding: 8px 0px; overflow: hidden; font-family: montserrat; font-size: 10px; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: 1px; color: #8d8d8d; white-space: pre-line; line-height: 110%;[/class] [class=toptag]margin-left: 10px; text-transform: lowercase; font-family: poppins; font-size: 13px; letter-spacing: -1px; color: #A46360 ; display: table; padding-left: 8px; padding-right: 5px; line-height: 110%; margin-top: -4px; margin-bottom: 5px;[/class] [class=post]height: 230px; width: 390px; margin-top: 180px; margin-left: 10px; overflow-x: hidden; padding-right: 5px; font-family: 'poppins'; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 0px; color: #8d8d8d; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; white-space: pre-line;[/class] [class=scroll]width: 100%; height: 100%; overflow-y: scroll; padding-right: 20px;[/class] [class=sideholder]position: absolute; height: 450px; width: 150px; right: 0; top: 0; background-color: #A46360 ;[/class] [class=name]width: 500px; font-family: montserrat; font-weight: 800; text-transform: lowercase; font-size: 30px; letter-spacing: -1px; color: #424242; display: table; text-align: center; position: absolute; bottom: -175px; height: 150px; line-height: 150px; padding-bottom: 0px; transform: rotate(-90deg); transform-origin: left top 0; float: left; text-shadow: -1px -1px 0 #fff, 1px -1px 0 #fff, -1px 1px 0 #fff, 1px 1px 0 #fff;[/class] [class=hr]width:100%; height:1px; background: grey[/class]

[div class=container][div class=holder][div class=contents][div class=container][div class=top][div class=toppic]

[/div] [div class=topinfo][div class=scroll]// mood [div class=toptag]satisfied.[/div] // location [div class=toptag]on way back to apartment.[/div] // interactions [div class=toptag]n/a.[/div] // tags [div class=toptag] Sicarius [/div][/div][/div] [div class=post] It was December 1st, sometime around ten at night. In bustling New York City, towards the coast, it was raining. Water pitter-pattered against the open window. The curtains, exposed to the outside weather, blew gently in the breeze. But, beyond that, the house was silent. Eerily silent. Soon enough, the rain simmered down, dissipating entirely and leaving nothing but cold fog in its wake. And then, just like that, the world began to move again. A smile swept across Aria's face. Content, she was content. The struggle had ended. The man before her was dead, had been for several minutes now, drowned to death in his own bathtub. Her gloves were soaked and she would no doubt have numerous bruises on her arms. Even still, despite the ache in her limbs, she felt happy. Glad. Relieved. It was this moment of satisfaction that had kept her sat before the tub on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor. She wanted to relish in this feeling for the rest of her life. But... there was more to be done. Wiping the sweat from her brow, Aria stood on shaky legs, adrenaline still pumping through her veins. Had she really just done that? Killed a man out of pure rage? She pushed those thoughts to the side right away. He deserved it. There wasn't a doubt in her mind about that. Selfish pig, that's what he was. Frowning, she turned and left the bathroom. To think just minutes ago that very same man had been casually drinking his night away. Whatever. That was the delightfully unexpected part of her plan, actually. He was intoxicated. His death could be mistaken for an accident. He was about to get into the bath when he passed out and drowned. It seemed plausible enough. She was still too caught up in the heat of the moment to think it through much more than that. In any case, the water splashed around from the struggle would probably be dried up in the morning, when his body was most likely to be found, if not days later. Who knows. At this point, Aria didn't care. The man was dead. That was enough for her. Hell, she barely even remembered his name. ...As if he was deserving of a name. She took some more bottles of alcohol out from a cabinet, leaving them strewn about the dining room table where the man's glass was. Now it looked like he'd excessively drank before his death. Alright. This was alright. Wasn't it? In search of confirmation, Aria pulled out her planchette and looked through the hole. She was met with nothing. Instead of being disappointed or upset, she beamed. Perhaps Jules had found peace, now that her murderer was dead. No more waiting to cross on to the afterlife for her. At least, that's what Aria hoped had happened. She had no way of confirming that, but it was a nice thing to believe in, wasn't it? If her plan hadn't worked, Jules would still be there, lifeless and sullen, following her around like a lost puppy. So she must've helped. She must've. Aria reopened the window that had been left carelessly ajar by her prey about an hour ago. Crawling through, she left it open behind her, not caring to close it. After all, it wouldn't lock from this side, now would it? What was the point, then? Regardless, she was on a high. Confident. Had planned to kill that man whether he was drinking or not. Now that she had the drunk excuse, maybe she really could get away with this. If she was lucky, the authorities wouldn't even be able to place her at the crime scene or learn that she had known the victim. For someone who had fully accepted the possibility of jail time, this was a pleasant surprise. Maybe... Maybe, with this lucky streak of hers, she could become a vigilante of sorts. She grinned underneath her mask at that thought. It actually was pretty tempting. Who knew how many lost souls were out there, waiting to find a reason to move on when they were so horribly wronged during their lifetime. She was the only one who could help them. Or, rather, the only one she knew that could help them. There could be others like her out there. If so, were they doing anything about it? Probably not. She couldn't take that risk. It was about time that she take things into her own hands. Beginning her walk back to her studio apartment, Aria stuffed her wet, gloved hands into her coat pockets. It was pretty cold tonight, wasn't it? She smiled. Maybe it would snow. She loved snow. [/div][/div][/div] [div class=sideholder][div class=name]aria keres.[/div][/div][/div][/div]

coded by constellation .

[/div]

 

[Sicarius]

[class=bkgd] position: relative; box-sizing: border-box; width: 800px; height: 500px; background-color: #0E0108; overflow: hidden; border-radius: 20px; border: 1px solid #0000ff; [/class] [class=bkgdborder] position: relative; box-sizing: border-box; width: 821px; height: 521px; padding: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; border-radius: 25px; border: 1px solid #0000ff; [/class] [class=name] position: absolute; left: 333px; top: 5px; overflow: hidden; width: 467px; height: 70px; text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 50px; text-transform: uppercase; color: #0000ff; [/class] [class=textbox] position: absolute; overflow: auto; width: 415px; height: 305px; left: 0px; top: 5px; text-align: justify; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 10px; line-height: 11px; padding: 10px; color: #ffffff; [/class] [class=textcontainer] position: absolute; overflow: hidden; width: 430px; height: 342px; left: 358px; top: 130px; background-color: #0000ff; border-radius: 20px; border: 1px solid #0000ff; [/class] [class=role] position: absolute; overflow: visible; width: 239px; height: 22px; left: 448px; top: 80px; background-color: #0000ff; border-radius: 30px; text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 14px; text-transform: uppercase; color: #ffffff; padding: 2px; [/class] [class=pic] position: absolute; overflow: hidden; width: 333px; height: 500px; left: 0px; top: 0px; background: url(https://data.whicdn.com/images/30925710/original.jpg); background-size: 100%; border-right: 1px solid #ffffff; [/class] [class=pichover] position: absolute; overflow: hidden; width: 100%; height: 100%; left: 0px; top: 0px; background-color: #0000ff; border-right: 1px solid #FF0078; text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 15px; line-height: 18px; color: #ffffff; padding-top: 80%; [/class] [class=hidden] display:none; [/class] [script class=pic on=mouseenter] fadeIn 0500 pichover [/script] [script class=pic on=mouseleave] fadeOut 0500 pichover [/script] [class=circlepic] position: absolute; width: 146px; height: 146px; left: 93.5px; top: 90px; border-radius: 100px; border: 1px solid #ffffff; background: url(https://i.pinimg.com/originals/6c/03/1b/6c031bbc7b92922f6a970790dc4ded95.jpg); background-size: 100%; [/class] [class=credit] position: absolute; top: 479px; left: 333px; overflow: hidden; width: 467px; height: 14px; text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 8px; color: #42B4CD; opacity: 0.5; [/class]
[div class=bkgdborder][div class=bkgd]
[div class=pic][div class="pichover hidden"][div class=circlepic][/div]Location: Coffee Shop

Mood: Intrigued

Tags: Kipsy

Actions: Accepting an investigation
[/div][/div]
[div class=name]Chance Ryder[/div]
[div class=role]The Investigator[/div]
[div class=textcontainer][div class=textbox]The clanking of glass cups and plates mixing with the warm, bright sounds of jazz music in the midst of pointless conversation was enough to put anyone in a daze; seemingly fading into a background of nothing but ironic silence. The bustling of people entering and leaving, the cars beeping with their drivers swearing, the repetitive Christmas music that was still too early to play in his opinion... Chance Ryder let out a huge sigh as his eyes bore into the ceiling of the coffee shop.

"Uh, Chance? Are you even paying attention to what I'm saying?"

Continually averting his gaze, Chance addressed the irate woman seated in front of him.

"Do you know the definition of attention? It's taking notice of something or someone who is interesting or important. Nothing you have said was interesting, and none of it seemed even close to being important. I don't care about what you did today, I don't care about your petty argument with your best friend, and I don't about your stupid cat."

Taken aback, the woman's eyebrows furrowed as she voiced her culminated anger.

"My cat died last week. You mean to tell me that doesn't sound important to you?" She huffed.

"Important to me? No." Chance nonchalantly responded.

"You're insufferable!" The woman yelled as she abruptly got up, grabbed her purse, and stormed out of the cafe.

Chance did not even blink as he watched the young female make her dramatic exit. Several glances made their way toward him, but he paid them no mind. Facts were the only things ever relative to him, so opinions meant very little in his eyes. What they thought of him and what he actually was, were more than likely very two different things. Or perhaps they had a good idea of how he was, which in that case... that just made them slightly less wrong.

The jaded man picked up his coffee cup and took another careful sip, cautiously avoiding the possibility of searing the roof of his mouth. After he placed it down, the live jazz band's music once again became distinguishable among all the noise. He was brought back to what felt like a new present, with anything that had transpired being nothing but a simple daydream. The silence in his mind was broken.

As he watched the band play with a bit of satisfaction evident on his face, suddenly his phone began to ring. Not wanting to be a disturbance to the casual vibe emanating throughout the coffee shop, Chance got up and made his way outside before answering the call.

"This is Ryder." Chance spoke.

"Hey Chance, it's Lucas. Things have been kinda slow around here, so we don't have much going on. Because of that, a few of the guys are taking interest in looking into details. Interestingly enough, something is a bit off about a death that happened a few days ago. It seemed typical at first, but a few of us are now skeptical. If you got nothing going on, maybe you could give us some insight?" The man known as Lucas asked expectantly.

"And why would an FBI investigator involve himself with a local law enforcement's routine case?" Chance mockingly replied.

"Cause I know you have nothing better to do this coming holiday." Lucas casually shot back.

"I have date." Chance refuted.

"Oh I'm sure that's long been over knowing you." Lucas teased.

"Fair point. Fine, I'll take a look at what could possibly be stumping the most intelligent of people who come from a place as fine as the NYPD." Chance sarcastically remarked.

* * *

Lucas Lawliet. 52 year old police commissioner, and long-time friend of Chance. The two have had a history, as many of Chance's inquiries during his tenure as prosecutor generally lead to him speaking with Lucas. Lucas had an endearing personality to everyone that knew him, including Chance. He was pretty laid back and down to Earth, able to get along with both his peers and subordinates alike. Despite Chance's unwillingness to socialize past the point of strictly the profession, Lucas managed to win Chance over. He is one of the few people Chance actually respects and admires; and if there was a man of the people, Chance would have to put Lucas' name down as the front-runner.

Every so often the two make time to catch up and de-stress from their meticulous occupations. He would never be able to admit it, but Chance saw Lucas as a father he never had. Well, at least one who seemed more invested than his biological. Not that he had anything particularly against his own father, but he was never quite understood. Lucas from either wisdom or intuition, was able to pick up on Chance's thought process. He was patient with the young man, and he learned quickly to look past the cold outer shell Chance constantly put on each day. To be a true friend to a guy like Chance was an accomplishment, one that Lucas took some pride in. He didn't view Chance as a challenge, but he was glad that he was able to make a connection with a seemingly problematic human being.

Standing in front of Lucas' office door, Chance brought his closed hand forward and knocked.

"Come in." Lucas invited.

Chance proceeded to enter the office. His eyes quickly surveyed the familiar room, taking note of the numerous awards and recognition Lucas managed to accumulate over time.

"I feel like you are overqualified for your job." Chance commented.

"Wow, a compliment from you? This is a bit early for Christmas." Lucas laughed.

"Tell Mariah Carey and every Hallmark fanatic that." Chance groaned.

"Ha! I thought you were an investigator, not a comedian." Lucas added on.

"People are jokes, so humor comes naturally to me." Chance admitted sarcastically.

"Well okay then sunshine. Anyways, have a seat. Let me grab the case file and give you a breakdown." Lucas said before getting up from behind his desk to search his file cabinet.

Throwing a manila folder down on the desk, Lucas began briefing the young prodigy.

"Two days ago at approximately 10:00pm Paul S. Weystone drowned to death in a bathtub in his own home. Time of death is determined to be around 9:58pm, but could be as close to 10:03pm. Actual time of death is not known, though autopsy reports indicate it was somewhere within that margin. Presumably, the man had been drinking prior to preparing the bath water, and due to intoxication, drowned himself after slipping and falling in. However, family members claim he never drank to the point of intoxication, and was merely a social drinker. He particularly drank whenever he was out on a date or his "infamous" one night stands. Pictures of the house have been taken and are inside the file." Lucas explained.

Chance carefully looked through Mr. Weystone's file. The man was unbearably ordinary, but not entirely a saint either. He had some minor scuffles in the past, and had been divorced with losing full custody of the kids. All in all, the case seemed rather boring to the FBI investigator. It was not even close to anything he had solved while working in the FBI and should already be a closed case. However, at present he was off-duty using some vacation time; with absolutely no plans other than sitting around binge watching TV, so he trudged on looking through the file.

When he got to the photos, he made sure to look over every detail.

Dining room table had bottles of alcohol and an empty glass sitting on top, highly indicative of Weystone's probable intoxication. A few cabinets were open in the kitchen, though nothing else seemed out of place. The living room contained a few pieces of garbage littered about on the floor, with a notable box of Chinese takeout placed on one of the arms of a sofa diagonal from a television. By the front door was a lamp and a few pictures adorning the wall. Outside of that, nothing that stuck with Chance. He did notice that the front door was locked, so the only one who could have been present in the home was Mr. Weystone himself. After looking at immaterial pictures of the hallways, Chance finally found the picture of Paul Weystone himself. It was a picture of the man's limp body strewn about a fully filled bathtub, shower curtains open and the light kept on. The only thing that caught Chance's eye was the open window adjacent from the tub.

Point of entry...? Chance pondered.

Everything else pointed to it being the story of one idiotic drunken man who decided to give himself a nice bath before passing out after a night of great zeal. However, that window had managed to pique his curiosity. Could be nothing, though Lucas did say a few people felt off about this case. Strangely enough, he was too.

"Can I visit the scene?" Chance requested.

"Of course." Lucas permitted.

* * *

Chance stood in front of the house with an inquisitive look on his face. He kept his hands in his jacket pockets as he scanned the outer appearance of the building. It was not exactly in the best of shape, but it was better off than a lot of homes in New York. After seeing the floor plans for the house, Chance made his way to where the window connected to the bathroom was. Once he was standing in front of it, he fiddled with it.

Opening and closing the window several times, Chance concluded there was not an issue with the mechanical function of the window.

"No sign of forced entry." Chance said to himself.

* * *

The stench. That awful stench. Chance was not at all prepared for the stench from the interior of Mr. Weystone's former residence. The smell of death? He was used to it. Blood and guts? All too accustomed to it. Yet whatever comprised of the putrid scent that permeated throughout the home, Chance was not sure if he was strong enough to withstand it.

"This man was disgusting." Chance complained.

Chance had made his way into the home and looked through majority of it. Everything was pretty much left the same, as was protocol. Feeling that he was wasting his time, Chance finally approached the bathroom.

The smell from before was a far less potent in the bathroom, and he gave credit to the circulation stemming from the open window. Peering back at said window, he saw a lock on the inside of it. This further confirmed that the victim must have opened it himself.

"I honestly don't even feel bad for him." Chance sighed.

He took a few steps forward, looking at the bathtub. The water had been drained, and the body had already been removed. As expected, the body was taken for an autopsy, as per the report.

Disappointed, Chance turned around and took a few steps forward to leave. However, he stopped in his tracks.

That smell... Chance thought.

The young investigator backtracked and did a retake of the room.

It almost smells like...

Chance's eyes widened. He gave special attention to the walls of the bathroom.

Drywall.

To confirm his suspicions, Chance walked up to one of the walls and knelt beside it. He let his hand run down it, and parts of it felt soft. In a few seconds, Chance mustered all the strength he had and punched a small hole in the side. Part of the wall easily gave in.

"Mold." Chance identified.

Indeed, mold had grown and affected a large portion of the drywall. Naturally, part of it would have water splashed onto it as the man accidentally drowned himself. However, there was a significant amount of mold. Meaning there was a significant amount that made its way onto it.

Quickly getting up, Chance went to the wall opposite of it. He gave it a kick, and it too caved with no effort. This meant that great portions of water had been flung all throughout the bathroom; far past the point of a drunken man fumbling around before bringing his own demise. No... there had to been a struggle that had taken place.

Pulling out his phone, Chance called Lucas.

"Hey Lucas... did your autopsy team by any chance take a BAC test of the victim?"

[/div][/div]
[div class=credit]code by sox[/div][/div][/div]