Realistic or Modern Falling In Love Should Be Like Polaroids

[Lutalica]

TheLovelyDead submitted a new role play:


❥Falling In Love Should Be Like Polaroids ❥ - Instant.

❥Falling In Love Should Be Like Polaroids. Instant.❥


If I had a nickel for every f*cking time someone said that there were plenty of fish in the sea, I'd be rich. It's easy for them to say considering they're married and already have three kids. In all honesty, I don't care...

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Read more about this role play...


overview

❥Falling In Love Should Be Like Polaroids. Instant.❥


If I had a nickel for every f*cking time someone said that there were plenty of fish in the sea, I'd be rich. It's easy for them to say considering they're married and already have three kids. In all honesty, I don't care about love anymore. It's just another excuse to pretend like life is okay and that everything is fine, but we all know damn well that it isn't, and it will never be.


Real PW: "Don't you just love polaroids?"


The story begins in Paris, France. Home of the Eiffel Tower, or more commonly known to be the city of love. Sadly, our generation is full of idiots, and it seems finding love is like finding a needle in a haystack. The world is a tough place, and it just isn't fit for people like us. We want those fairytale endings, no matter how much we might deny it. We want our Romeo & Juliet love story, without all the death and other bullshit. We want our sappy romance novel love. The hard part? It doesn't seem to want us.

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rules

1. Romance is obviously encouraged, you would be an idiot to think otherwise, but please fade to black when things get hot.


2. Cursing is acceptable, but don't be a sailor. 3. Drama is encouraged, but I beg of you, don't be a drama queen.


4. Follow all RpN rules.


5. You may have more than one character, but the limit is two, and I advise you to make one of each gender unless otherwise stated by me.


6. Stay active. I'd hate to see a potential role play die from inactivity. If you have any doubts of not being able to reply frequently, move along.


7. I would like to see at least two paragraphs if you are experiencing the dreadful disease known as Writer's Block. No worries, it gets us all. The password is "Waiting for my love story."


8. No god-modding, bunnying, or any other crazy named terms that mean controlling another player's character.


9. Nobody is perfect, and your character is no exception.


10. Have fun with this, will ya?

​

 

[Lutalica]

Danny Woods





Danny woke up to the sound of French church bells. The sun outside seemed to peek ever so slightly into her room and she gave a soft smile. Mornings weren't usually this tranquil. In France, you'd usually here road ragers arguing at one another, or even the bellowing of French car horns honking until the light turned green, or even after it turned green. Paris wasn't the place people expected, yet everyone flew to its streets when they heard about it being the city of love. "City of love my ass." Danny huffed under her breath as she sat up from the comforts of her bed. She was still unpacking after moving out from her ex's house. The fight they had was intense, but so was the love before it. The girl shook the thoughts away. Love was painful yet so magical.


She finally left the mattress that was a substitute for a future bed. Danny had her loft planned out in her head, but saving up the money to make that plan a reality was a whole other story. She simply shrugged and made her way into the powder room in order to get her day going.





Danny was refreshed. No, more than that, she was full of energy. She had some new shipments in from Milan. It was the perfect way to start a grand opening for her boutique. Danny grabbed a bowl hat to top off her look and hopped downstairs to the living room. With a quick spin, she grabbed her purse and slipped on her shoes before she skipped out the front door. She could hardly wait to see the beautiful dresses, handsome suits, or even show stopper shoes that would arrive in those cardboard packages. It felt like Christmas, but without all the snow. That wasn't until next month, of course.


The girl was walking the streets of Paris without a care in the world. Danny was focused and had her eye solely on the prize(s) that was awaiting her within the store. Itsee was to the left of the grand, yet ordinary on her view point, Eiffel Tower. As usual, tourists were bustling around it like little ants to a scrap of baker's bread. Danny couldn't contain her soft laughter. To her, it was just another architectural work of art, but to tourists, it was like finding a pot of gold.


She finally reached her expected destination and couldn't stop smiling. The girl was practically glowing with enthusiasm as she stared at the turquoise painted boutique. It was everything she had imagined as a child. A business, a home to call her own, friends, family, and even a husky that was probably bored at doggy day camp. Everything was in her grasp. Everything except love.




​

 

[MittyMittens]

Kira was sitting at the bar in her hotel before she decided to trek out for the day. Between the drinks she had during the flight last night and her celebratory bottle of champagne after she arrived she was having a bit of a throbbing head. And a mimosa was the perfect cure for that. It was her vacation after all, she planned to have all the fun she wanted,no matter what she decided that fun would be. She was wearing a brown tunic style shirt and green tights, finished with brown riding boots. She had her hair up and back in a high ponytail. She looks around at the various people in the hotel bar, which weren't very many at this hour. She picks a bit at the bowl of fruit she had in front of her for breakfast. She made a mental note to herself before she went on this trip that she'd be social and talk to people. She didn't want to be an introvert and enjoy the sights alone, she wanted to meet people and have a decent story for back home. She takes another sip of her mimosa as she thinks of what she wanted to do on her first official day in Paris.

 

[Lacuna]

Acacia Galanos

​

As morning broke the light cascaded in through the large french doors that lead to the balcony of Acacia's apartment. Miniscule dust particles drifted though the air, creating their own small dance in the static room. The only sound to be heard was the small chirps of the morning doves outside. It was early enough in the morning that the city hadn't awoken yet. These were the hours of the day that Acacia loved the most. Everything was calm and peaceful. Everything was perfect.


The steam coming off the top of the cup of tea wafted over her face, almost giving her a mini facial. Smiling softly to herself she tilted her head back as the sunlight hit her face. When she finished the tea she shuffled off down the hall to her room. Her apartment was a small one, but it was just right for her and her cat, Blu. Her small room had just enough room for a twin bed and a bookcase for all her photography gear. Her closet was an absolute mess with clothing crammed into it, but she had no problem shifting through it all to find her outfit for the day. Making her way down to the bathroom she tied her hair up in a top knot and splashed a bit of water on her face.


With that she was ready to start her day. It was her first day off in two weeks and she a lot of running around to do, but all she wanted to do was get out and take some photos. Padding back to her room she packed up her large camera case with her select favorite camera, her film EOS Canon and her digital SLR Nikon. Acacia was a purist. She loved the way that film looked. There was a certain something about it that always drew her back to it, even though digital allowed for so many more options.


After packing up her bags she headed out the door and down the back stairs to the small and quaint alleyway behind her apartment. The smell of fresh coffee filled her nose and the sound of the awakening streets filled her ears. Her oxfords echoed small clicks as she padded down the brick street. With her Canon hanging around her neck she would stop to take a photo every so often. She still didn't believe that she was in the heart of France; it was surreal.


The first thing on her list was to go grocery shopping. That was one of the top things she loved about Paris, the food markets. The city seemed to scattered with them, each of them providing their own special cuisine. The Aligre market was the closet to her house, and had the best selection of all of them, at least in her opinion. At the end of the ally she hung a right and headed four blocks down to the market. When she arrived she was immediately greeted with smell of freshly baked bread and the smiling faces of the owners of the stands. She was a regular for them, and knew almost all of the owners by name.


"Bonjour Adriana. Une miche de pain s'il vous plaît." Acacia spoke softly in her rusty French, to the young girl who stood behind the crates of grains and shelves of fresh bread. Of all the people in the Aligre market, Adriana was Acacia's favorite. She had to be 8 years old, tops, but she was very mature for her age and she reminded Acacia so much of her little brother she left back in Greece. As the young girl handed Acacia the loaf, in return Acacia slipped 2 Euros over to her. "Gardez la monnaie." Her Greek accent was clearly noticeable through her French words.

Translations

"Bonjour Adriana. Une miche de pain s'il vous plaît." -- Good morning Adriana. A loaf of bread please.


"Gardez la monnaie." -- Keep the change.

​

 

[LostDeliriously]

Lux Viktoria Émile

​

"Yes mama, don't worry. I'm alright, " Lux told her mother, as she took another pull from her cigarette. She had just arrived in France earlier that morning and her mother was already calling her, making sure she was alright. "You have the money I gave you, yes?" she asked. I looked through the bag that hung over my shoulder for my wallet and when I found it, I looked inside and noticed the stack of euros. "Yes, I have it," I told her, reassuring her that I was going to be fine. I had never been too far away from home so her making sure everything was okay, was normal. "I've got to go. This call is very expensive," she joked, "Your papa says he loves you," she says. "Tell him I love him, too. I love the both of you. Speak to you as soon as I can."








After hanging up the phone, Lux laid back on the plush bed and smiled when she turned her head and noticed the beautiful scenery outside of her bedside window. She couldn't believe she was actually in Paris, France. "The most romantic place on Earth," some people titled it. She couldn't wait to try the French traditional foods and hopefully, find love along the way. Love, she thought, definitely not one of my strong suits. She looked over at her suitcases that sat beside a huge closet and sighed as she stood up and began unpacking. One of the things she knew she would dread having to do for the next thirty minutes to an hour or so.


After unpacking, she grabbed her French/English dictionary and made her way out of the alcove studio she rented. She walked down the stone pavements, occasionally looking inside of her dictionary to understand the street names. Rue de l'Abbaye, she thought to herself, being sure not to forget the street name of where her studio was. She looked around, smiling back at the friendly people who smiled at her. She stopped at a local café and walked inside, then got into the line that was forming quickly. When Lux got to the front of the line, the woman smiled at her. "Can I have a café crème and croissant au beurre?" she ask her, proud of myself for remembering some of the language she had already read while on the plane to France.





The woman simply nodded with a smile and replied, "Coming right up." After 3 minutes, she handed her a cup along with the croissant with a napkin wrapped around it. Lux handed her 7,50 euro and proceeded to sit down in one of the empty chairs inside of the café. She continued to look through the dictionary and drank her coffee while eating the delicious croissant.

​

 

[pulpfiction]

Elliot Cole

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Elliot woke to the sound of chirping birds and the stream of sunlight coming in through the gap of his window shutters, which was a sight he wasn't used to seeing back in his old apartment. Back home, he usually woke to the blaring noise of his old roommate Dan's electric guitar-- the source of complaint of not only Elliot, but also their neighbors. Now that he was in Paris, things were suddenly much more peaceful, which he wasn't sure was such a good thing, since he'd always been used to the noise of his previous neighborhood. You'd also be expecting that now in Paris his apartment would be a little bit tidier for a change, but as he took a quick glance over his room, it really was just the same mess, just in a different place. He rolled over in his spot to sit up, groaning as he did so. He really never was and probably never will be much of a morning person.


He stood up, rubbing his face as if it would wake him up. "Crap," was the first word that came out of his mouth that morning as he remembered he had a job interview due at the local record store in his new town, an appointment scheduled yesterday when he'd had his first day roaming around as the typical tourist. Elliot walked to the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror, examining himself. This was probably one of the problems he'd had with Susie, his ex: vanity.


"Fuck Susie," he said as he combed his hair with gel into the usual style he did it in, then pulled on a clean pair of jeans and a leather jacket over his white v-neck to at least look presentable for his oh-so very important job interview. With a last look at the mirror, he headed out and was soon on the street, where he looked for the record store. Soon enough, he found the familiar posters of various French artists on the shop window and entered the place, where he was met by Lea, the store manager. "You're late," she said. "Sorry," replied Elliot, but judging by his tone, he wasn't really that sorry. "It's fine. The interview's going to be short anyway."


"Hm?" he said distantly. He'd been looking at a series of The Kinks records, and wasn't exactly listening. "Elliot," Lea said with her strong French accent. "Sorry," he said again, as he turned his full attention on her this time. Lea sighed, "You're going to have to pay attention more often. I just need to know if you've had any records of arrest?" "Well, not here," he said truthfully. "Good enough. You're hired. If you want, you can do me a favor and start now so I can take a break."


"Actually, I--" "Thanks, Elliot. You lock up at eight," she said as she tossed him the keys, and Elliot was left with a confused expression on his face and his first burden in Paris to work.

 

[Lori Williams]

Gabriel Santos




​

Gabriel woke up to a loud knocking on the door of his small, yet quaint, apartment. "Quem é?" he groaned, reluctantly pushing the covers off himself. Oops, wrong language. It took him a few brief moments to remember where he was. "Qui est là?" he repeated, but in French. His Brazilian accent was seeping through, but he really couldn't help it. Before the person answered he walked up to the door and swung it wide open. It definitely wasn't who he wanted to see at 7:40 a.m. Standing before him was the apartment owner. Gabriel was late to paying his rent and there was no doubt that the man was here to collect the money. "J'ai juste besoin de quelques jours de plus. s'il vous plaît!" he pleaded. He honestly didn't know how he as going to whip up the money in the short time he had, but he just needed to think it through. The man nodded, but his face was still as serious as ever.


When the owner finally left Gabriel slammed the door shut and walked over to his inexplicably tiny bathroom. His short conversation with the man had woken Gabriel up, so there was no point in attempting to go back to sleep. He looked in the mirror and immediately noticed that he was a wreck. He had serious dark circles and his eyes were blood shot. Every night he told himself to go to sleep earlier, but his body refused to listen. After washing up and showering, Gabriel threw some clothes on and walked out the door.


As he roamed the streets he thought about all of his big expectations and goals as he came to France for the first time so many years ago. He was young, but still, he had wanted and expected so much of Paris. Teenage Gabriel was greatly disappointed when everything was fulfilled except for the one thing he had truly wanted. Love. It was ironic, with him living in the so called 'city of romance'.


Gabriel shook the thoughts out of his head and slipped into a small cafe that he went to every morning to pick up coffee and occasionally a small pastry. Today he decided to order some coffee and a Tarte au Citron, a lemon tart. It was definitely Gabriel's favorite and it was his most frequently eaten snack.


The counter girl handed him the little pastel colored bag with his tart in and greeted Gabriel with a smile. He smiled back and took the bag. There were some tables outside and Gabriel gladly sat down in one of the chairs. Anyone would expect that Gabriel was happy. He had a quaint apartment, lots of friends in shops around him, and he was living in Paris eating a Tarte au Citron! Even through all of that, all Gabriel could think about was that sad fact that nobody was sitting across from him.

 

[swampishpetrichor]

Daisy Descoteaux ||

Outfit || Outside of the Eiffel Tower
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"Roses! Achetez-les alors qu'ils sont en fleurs!" Daisy shouted as she walked around the square outside of the Eiffel Tower. Her shouting wasn't obnoxious, it sounded like she was just speaking loudly. There was other vendors that sold baguettes, croissants, pastries, and chocolates. But, Daisy sold roses. "Roses! Get them while they're still in bloom!" She yelled in English this time, for the the American or British tourists. Once more, she yelled the same thing in Spanish, Greek, Portuguse, then finally French again. Daisy was multilingual, since she went to school in Geneva and lived in a small town in France near Geneva. Then, she moved to Paris for college for a few years. But, she was on break for now. She passed around some free roses to little kids of different origins, and told them to tell their mothers and fathers to buy some roses any time at her shop.


Business was getting slow out in the streets, so she decided to go to the theatre later and ask if she could dance a few shows for this week. They always accepted her since she was a good dancer, plus she knew the owner real close, she was her sister, Chanel. Daisy sighed, the heat was sweltering today for France, but she couldn't complain, it was almost noontime. Daisy sighed, and sat down on a bench, she still had a bouquet of roses to sell today, and she had fifty dollars from the roses she sold. She sold her roses for three euros each, and fifteen euros a bouquet. It was an okay price, but not the best price. They were more expensive during holidays, like Valentine's Day, or Christmas, but sometimes she gave out roses for free since she was a softy at heart. Daisy watched the people bustling around and taking pictures and selling things.


More than eight times, she saw couples walk by the Eiffel Tower and she sighed. How ironic was it? The city of love, she was born here, and yet she couldn't land one guy for some reason. Too independent probably, she had always done things herself and often and didn't like help from others. She cared too much, while others seemed to be the complete opposite from her. More irony, though-- she sold roses to people who would give them as gifts to their lovers, mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, and maybe even they're grandparents. But, it was mostly given to their significant others, and she didn't have one. She had plenty of friends, and she was just sick of people saying, "I don't know why you're single! But you're so nice!" She hated hearing that. Ugh, Daisy thought. Life can be annoying sometimes. She looked at the empty spot on her bench, scoffing.

 

[SolarLuna21]

Skyver Allen Smith

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Walking up to the two story apartment that's the name you see 'Skyver Allen Smith' painted on a plaque that hangs next to the door. It was a most beautiful apartment at that. It had a balcony on the top floor that had the most wonderful view of Paris itself. And it was all Skyver's.


The sun was coming in through the balcony window, Hitting Skyver right in the face "Ugh." he groaned as he rolled over to avoid it. As soon as he got comfortable again his alarm went off. He raised a big hand and slammed it on top of it as he went to get up.


Skyver walked out of the bathroom after freshing up. He put on a casual suit. It wasn't to fancy considering he worked with the biggest record label in Paris France. And with the fact that it was only a regular there at the label. He yawned as he walked out of his apartment locking up right behind him. He headed down the street saying good morning to all the people that said it to him toward the little pastier shop at the corner right by his work. There he saw one of the woman that he could tell had a crush on him so he used to his advantage. Every morning he would walk up to her and flirt alittle bit so he could get coffee and a nice pastier before going into work, And every morning it was something different. It got to the point where he didn't even have to flirt anymore it would just be sitting on the counter in a bag and he'd walk by and pick it up. That was the lovely thing about paris everyone was just so desperate for love.


(Not one of my best posts.. I Apologize for that... I promise to post better in the future)

 

[two]

Miles Junior


9:00 A.M // The small appartment \\ Paris





Waking up early? That wasn't something Miles like to do so he just didn't set an alarm clock and hoped the kids from the apartment above wouldn't start screaming his name. When he arrived they showed him around in the huge building since they lived there and rented the apartment below for others. Not that he understood everything they said in their language, French. Luckily their mom could speak English and invited him for dinner. Maybe he could even get some money for babysitting on those two hyperactive kids who were around 6-7 years old. Anyway Miles woke up by the sun shining right in his eyes, good way to start the day. He groaned softly, stood up and made his way to the bathroom to take a quick shower. After that he changed into a white t-shirt, skinny jeans (not too skinny) and timberlands. He actually wanted to wear his nikes but since he couldn't find them that fast he decided to search for them when he came back.


Once he walked out and greeted the lady from above who was cleaning the hallway for some reason, he made his way to a small coffee shop for breakfast. Not planning to sit there for ages so he ordered a coffee mixed with caramel in a cup and panini mozzarella. The eiffel tower, kinda basic because probably everyone went to it, was his destination on this morning. Sadly there wasn´t a beach close to paris so he could surf. While he walked around through the streets from Paris he was wondering what his mom was doing now. Probably working at the local bar in the town he usually lives. He wasn´t worried that she would get drunk or would fuck random dudes because the only reason she worked there was to get money. He took a sip of his coffee and threw the napkin from his panini in a trash can.


The Eiffel tower, the place where cute couples would look at the view on the top of it. He made a picture of it with his iphone but then his eye catched a small group of dancers. Just dancing around for fun, not even for money. It reminded him of his own hiphop crew in Australia. Dancing for fun and sometimes joining a competition or something. He walked closer and stood a few minutes there to watch them. He decided to join with a quick move, gave one of them a high-five as compliment for their dance moves and walked away slowly from the group. The coffee cup still holding in his hands.

​

 

[Sea]

♚Delilah Scott♚


outfit


"I'm just saying, you could have taken the pressure, Daisy." The young woman sighed, gazing at her reflection in the mirror. Her mother was off telling her about how the gap year was not the best option. Despite the assumed support, things were still quite tense. "You probably..." Delilah didn't hear the rest of the sentence; instead, she focused on her appearance that reflected back at her, playing with a lock of curled golden hair. Her blue eyes were bored, with a dull look staring back at her. She was dressed and ready to go, though had been delayed right before leaving by this surprise phone called from her mother. She looked around her apartment, the fine decoration, fresh look, and neat interior satisfying her. Her parents had grudgingly paid for it and agreed to continue to do so for the duration of her stay. They were her resource, though she had been getting odd jobs here and there to not be completely useless. After all, a girl has to earn her worth.


Delilah coughed loudly until the talking on the other side of the line halted abruptly. "Mom, I'm fine," she replied, her voice lulling with impatience. "I told you, I needed this gap year and Dad completely agrees. Sometimes people need gap years, and sometimes they don't. This time I do." She heard a strangled reply from the other end, completely expected. "Look, I have to go soon or I'll be late for work. Bye, say hi to Dad, I love you." She hastily hung up, experienced from practice of fast talking and even faster hanging ups. She was lying; she didn't have a job yet. In fact, she had barely given her six years of French lessons a try. Student exchange trips never interested her. She exhaled, giving her sore eyes a good press before blinking away that bored look and replacing it with her usual expression of calm coolness.


Paris. The grand city of romancing and pink hearts shot out by an invisible force. Delilah almost laughed. She would have avoided this place, especially due to her past experience with love, which was practically zero. She was surprised at her lack of experience, especially since she was proud of her attractive looks. However, her dating experience was purely playful and nothing serious ever happened. In fact, she moved on if things got too uncomfortable or boring; it was simply interest and amusement. Also, being one of the last person to start dating already made her an easy target for teasing. They were always saying how there must be some sort of deep, dark secret she was hiding or some sort of major flaw she had that kept anyone from having any ambition in showing her any serious affection. It wasn't really true, but it wasn't easy to laugh off or jab back with a comment like that.


And then there was the Eiffel freaking Tower, the pinnacle of pinnacles of romance. It was where people shot black and white pictures with that one red balloon that symbolized the fleeting, flickering flame of love that always leaves you soundless and in tears...not that Delilah had watched any. She wasn't anti-love at all...just very skeptical of finding this so called 'true love' that comes and goes if you're unlucky enough. The young woman hid a ruefully amused smile as she watched the stereotypical romantic activities going on around her before entering into a bakery of some sort. She ordered a few baked goods, then told the person who was helping her to surprise her with any type of tea with a sweet smile. As she received her order, she was pleasantly surprised to find an unknown fiery tinted liquid in the cup, a delicate steam arising from the white coffee cup. Hope it's not poisoned, she thought, then looked around at the couples. "Though I'm sure I'll unluckily survive it, but with permanent scars.


So many things, people, dogs were walking around, prancing practically from the love high that sickened her. She was embraced as an outsider as she sipped the mysterious tea.


((Ah, very sorry for the late reply; finally got a little internet to be able to write this, so sorry if it's bad :c)

​

 

[spectro]

Pierro woke up to the sound of traffic speeding up next to him. He hadn't managed to find anywhere to crash last night and he had to curl up on a bench on the beach promenade. He put his hand in front of his face to hide the mid-summer sun of Paris. He stared down at his watch and tapped the glass.


"7:02."


He yawned, sitting upright. He pulled on his shoes that he left tucked under the mahogany bench and tied his brown laces. He pulled off his thick coat that was keeping him warm; but now it was just overheating his body. Today was the day he would go to the beach and 'chill'. It was his rest day, when he stopped handing out leaflets for his friends band and sun bathed on the beach. He thought he might even go to the park near the Eiffel tower. But first, breakfast. And he knew there was no place better to go for breakfast than 'Truffles'. They sold the best pancakes.


That's where he would go.

 

[splice box]

//Chason Bennett//


When the sunlight of the outside world manages to peek its way in to your world, managing to get past all of those material objects and distractions and sit peacefully on your body, you're reminded of how much things in life are comforting, yet so simple. Like those elegant and blank snowflakes falling on a mound of fluffy white powder in the winter, or the tingle of your fingers as they manage to just clasp each other from either side of a teacup. Or the way when someone you love so dearly looks in to the sun, and the sunlight sits so perfectly in the glass-like spheres that you can't look away. Those are the things that remind Chason Bennett everyday that not all life is utter shit, and sometimes humans are worth living for. Well, some of them. A breeze sounded through his open windows, and sent the white curtains of the room to gently fly up. A golden sunbeam shone its way on to Chason's face, causing his pale blue eyes to enter the world, as his eyelids drowsily moved halfway up them, and his body, submerged in the cluster of heaped feather blankets and pillows, slightly moving to absentmindedly wake himself up. "Good morning sunshine," He said without thought, almost wishing there was someone there to hear it. Believe it or not, Chason lived for the mornings. He believed they were just a reminder that you're still alive, and for that you should be thankful. After all, life is only borrowed, and you'll have to return it sooner or later. Chason lifted his arm, his hand simply basking in the sunlight and floating pieces of dust, and a soft warm presence graced his skin.


The sunlight.


His hand landed on his puffy blankets, sending other dust particles to go flying. Chason just so happened to remember that he was bored of his one room apartment, so he lifted himself from bed, and jumped in to the shower. A plan for today wasn't exactly in mind, so he would just go out and explore a bit. After all, this place was made for walking around, so it was only natural that he would on a day like today. He stepped out of the shower and dried himself off, gently humming to 'Jolene' by Dolly Parton. Hey, the boy liked the old classics, even if it so happened he sounded silly singing about a woman who was jealous of another woman. Although, jealousy was human nature. "Your smile is like a breath of spring, your skin is soft like summer rain, and I cannot compete with you Jolene," He sang lightly as he wrapped his towel around his lower body and walked to his dresser, picking out an outfit for today. It was a pair of grey light washed jeans, with a maroon sweatshirt with the words "No I Don't Skate" on them. He liked the irony of it, considering he had begun to skate at the age of ten, and has never stopped since. Slipping on a pair of Aztec Vans, he went in to the washroom and fiddled with his hair, making it seem to curl in some parts and stand up in others. It was his trademark look-- a 'sex hair' look.


"My happiness depends on you


And whatever you decide to do, Jolene."


A hop, skip, and a jump. That's all it took to get in to the cobblestone streets of the hustling and bustling city of love, the romantic language consuming the air, making it a cloud of nonsense words all jumbled up. Chason explored the streets, mentally taking pictures of random things he thought interesting. Children running with out a care, an exchange of euros for a loaf of bread, a blonde woman occupying a bench.


Chason stopped, consumed in wonder about the girl. His head had been lowered down in an effort not to get noticed, and he began to chew on his lip, a habit he had picked up years ago as a child. He stood only a few meters away from the bench, so he was eminently aware of her presence right in front of him. Looking up, his eyes locked with her stature, a graceful slouch as she gazed at the bench side that was empty. With a breath, he walked to the bench and sat down as casually as possible. Was he sure why he was doing this? No. Was he confident that he would even be able to talk to her? Not at all. But he was sure that sitting next to her would do no harm, even if words weren't exchanged. He wasn't sure why, but she had some sort of nature about her that seemed so sad, yet so... Endearing? Loveable? It was some sort of affection Chason wanted to feel. He wasn't sure why, but he had gone on long enough without feeling anything. Looking to the side, *he dragged his hand through his hair* in an effort to keep it looking messy and out of his face. Looking down at his lap, he stayed silent, wondering if maybe


she would speak first.

​

ooc//: My sister helped me with this because I had no idea what to do ;~; so if it sounds too farfetched for a guy, that's why



*Gif above*

​

 

[Armageddon]

Alexander Fetzer


"Madame! Vous avez laissé tomber quelque chose!"


A woman turned around to find a young man jogging after her. He was holding a wallet in one of his hands, and when she glanced at him, a crooked grin spread across his lips. He caught up to her, handing her the wallet and speaking again, slightly out of breath, "Désolé, j'ai vu cette baisse de votre sac à main." The woman took the wallet and smiled at him, responding, "Merci beaucoup, jeune homme." Though his appearance was obviously American, he spoke in a very practiced French accent, edged subtly with his natural British accent. He wore a black leather jacket, with a white T-shirt underneath, with skinny jeans and sneakers for shoes. Definitely not formal, by any means, but he pulled it off pretty well.


With a polite nod, he said, "Vous êtes les bienvenus, madame." With that, they parted ways, and his hands slipped into the pockets of his jeans. He had done something good. That was wonderful. He pulled in a breath of air and released it, glancing around to get his bearings again and starting back onto his path to his target destination.


It was morning time, and he had decided after some very careful consideration on going to a certain café he had gone to a couple of times before. The coffee there was insanely good, and there was always a sense of peace. He had begun to memorize the routes and streets of Paris so that he wouldn't always need a map wherever he went, and at that point, getting to the shop would be a piece of cake.


He sauntered across the sidewalks, and he began to notice that his attention was continuously pulled towards the couples he saw. One were swinging their held hands and chatting; another were laughing together about something. At this point, the sudden shifts in attention were normal. Though France was a beautiful place, he had come to Paris for a number of reasons other than to look at the history, one of them being the rumor that Paris is the city of love.


Love and relationships had always appealed to him. He saw all these pictures and videos and movies, and just about everything, that showed couples doing romantic, cute things with each other. There was always that little seed of yearning deep down that longed for that feeling. He had only had a couple of relationships in the past, but they never lasted, and they never went the way he wished they would. He was fairly sure that his hopes were nothing special to dwell on, and he didn't let them bog him down too much. But the emotions would always be there, until he found someone that he loved, and who loved him back.


With a sigh, he glanced up to find himself on the street of his favorite café. He shook the bangs out of his eyes and relaxed his walk, reaching the door and pulling one of his hands out of his pockets to open the door and slip inside. There was a sizable wait, but he didn't exactly mind it. After a few minutes, he came up to the counter, and the lady behind it smiled at him and asked in English, "What can I get you?"


He smiled back, responding in his usual British voice, "A white chocolate mocha, please." He paid her and thanked her, waiting until his drink was called and taking it.


He traversed to an empty two-seated table and sat on one end of it, sipping his drink. As always, it tasted delicious. He knew he should change it up at some point or another, but that drink was just so addicting. His gaze moved to the side to stare out of one of the large windows beside him. The sidewalks were starting to get more bustling. He melted into the ambiance of the café - the voices of chatter and laughter, the clinking and movement of cups - and let his gaze start to trail around the place, trying to take his mind off of the empty seat ahead of him.

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[Lacuna]

Being a regular at the market had its perks; whenever the owners saw her coming they had her food of choice waiting for her to pick it up. On any given day it would take her 20 minutes, tops, to finish her shopping, and on days like today that was perfect. The less time spent shopping the more time she could spend out taking photos. Swinging by her apartment to drop off the groceries, she headed back out again. This time she hung a left and headed straight for the cafe. The cobblestone paths in the alleyways twisted and turned, creating a small maze that she has mastered over her 6 month span of living there. Every so often she would stop and shoot a picture, her 5 minute walk quickly turned into a 10 minute walk with every snap of shutter. Finally arriving at the quaint cafe, she entered and ordered herself a blueberry muffin and small cappuccino, just the pick-me-up she needed. After paying for her delicious order, her eye's wandered about the room looking for an open spot. Plently of the tables had at least one occupant, but most of them had two. Just another reminder of the man she left behind in Greece.


She didn't regret leaving him. She just regretted the way that she left him. Leaving someone a note saying that you don't love them was just as bad as breaking up via a text message. She could have handled things much better, but her instincts to just leave lead her down the path of regret. He was such a nice guy, and she was going to be the girl who ruined him. The one who would make him not trust girls or just simply not date. These were the kinds of things that kept her up at night.


As her eyes flickered about the room, they finally fell on an empty table. Perfect for her and her cameras. Sometimes she wondered if they were why guys never talked to her when she was alone somewhere. Like they hinted at that she was there with someone else or was saving the spot. But these where all what if's; no real answers. Making her way over the table she plopped herself down in the chair, and this time, shoved her bags under the table. It was a wild attempt to look approachable, even though she severely doubted it would be of any help.


Leaning back in her chair her eyes wandered about the room, taking in the people around her. She was surrounded by couples. Each of them making her feel more and more guilty, but there was one table where a young man sat alone. He was about her age and looked like was of some sort of Spanish decent. There was something about him that caught her eye. Maybe it was the fact that he looked to be just as alone as she was in the so called city of love.

 

[pulpfiction]

Elliot Cole


Work wasn't really a burden for Elliot after all. If he thought about it in a positive light, he did get to see pretty French girls walk in from time to time. But if he looked at it in a negative light, well, he also got to see the pretty French girls' boyfriends walk in after they do. Of course. This was the city of love after all. It was just that Elliot seemed to be the only one who wasn't in love, but wanted to be. He sighed as he walked around the limited space behind the counter in a circle. There wasn't really much to do, except to listen to his favorite bands over and over on the free-to-use gramophone (which was actually for customers, but oh well). In the end, he ended up singing La Vie en Rose, the only French song he knew so far (and he wasn't even singing it in French), strumming the imaginary guitar in his hands. This may have been the perfect moment for him, if, and only if, there was a girl he could actually sing it to, and if he actually had a real guitar. Sighing once more, he plopped himself down on the swivel chair and combed through his hair with his fingers as he watched couples walk past the record store, holding hands and smiling.


It may have been a few hours or so that passed as he just watched the view through the window, but after a while, the doors swung open to the sight of Lea. "You're early," he stated, as if it wasn't obvious enough already. "Yeah, I know. It turns out my plans have been cancelled so I'm going to take your shift." at the words, Elliot looked up at her suspiciously. Even if he only knew her for about two days, it was easy to tell that Lea wasn't exactly the kind of person who did things for people. Especially him. "Hm?" he said, but Lea only shrugged."Do I have to say it in French, too? Je prends votre quart de travail." she repeated. Eyebrows raised, Elliot pulled on his jacket and headed outside without saying a word, in case she changed her mind. Fortunately for him, she didn't, and he was free to go home. Once he reached his apartment, all Elliot took was his guitar case and headed outside once more, since he figured he wouldn't receive his pay check from the record store until the end of the week, and playing for tips would probably help get him some extra money on the side. Finally, he settled on a spot in front of a cafe, where he observed was where people passed by a lot and started singing an original song of his, which coincidentally matched the theme of Paris: love. Singing about it only made him even more bitter than he was, but he didn't let it show that much as he sang, "Baby I'm yours, and I'll be yours until the stars fall from the sky. Yours, until the river runs all dry," He sighed in between lyrics. Why did he choose love songs every time he sang anyway? "In other words, until I die."


Evidently though, people seemed to like the song, and tipped a lot into his guitar case. He wondered why others liked his song while he didn't, even when he made it himself. And in the end, he figured out the difference between him and them: they were in love.

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[swampishpetrichor]

Daisy Descoteaux

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Daisy leaned back onto the bench, and she crossed her right leg over the left as she did so. A bouquet of roses was laid in her lap, and she looked down at them, her lips pursed in concentration as she rearranged them in a more organized way, then she pulled a black ribbon and then tied it around the base of the bouquet and tied it into a bow. Daisy felt eyes on her, and she tilted her head upwards, and didn't see anybody. She looked to her side, and saw a boy about her age sitting by her side, staring at his lap. The Frenchwoman sat up straighter, and loosened her grip on the bouquet of roses. She eyed him, and saw that he looked like he wasn't from around here. When you lived in a place for your whole life, you could tell who was of French origin, and who was not. "Parlez-vous francais?" She asked with a cocked brow. "Or English, Español, Ellinka, Português?"


She didn't know why she was talking to him, but the way he was looking at his lap made him look gloomy, lonely, even. She didn't know why she cared for people so much, but she just did. Maybe that's why she was a sucker for people, and she often gave out free roses, though she was the one who needed money. Daisy's eyes ran over a child who was walking through the street, asking for money and some people declined him he had come over to Daisy with tears in his eyes. "Avez-vous un changement de rechange?" He asks her, and she stands to her feet, pulling a few bills from her pockets. It was enough for him to buy some new clothes, or food. He looked like he was going to cry at the amount of money he had given her and she smiled at him. "Don't cry, my friend. It's a beautiful day." She told him in French, and then handed him the bouquet of flowers.


The girl sat back down on the bench with a light sigh and she ran a hand through her blonde hair. She watched the little boy walk off and then she turned back to the guy next to her once he was out of sight. "Is it not?" She asked, referring to how beautiful today was. She looked up, her head tilted back as she squinted her eyes to look up at the brightly lit day. She gave into the suns rays, and closed her eyes, and all she could see was red through her eyelids, but that was enough for her. Daisy could feel the beauty, she knew it. She knew the sky was blue, and the white, cotton-like clouds were rolling in the wind currents above, and the sun was slowly setting as the earth turned. But, right now, it seemed as if time stopped since all she could pay attention to was the beauty she could see in her closed-eye state. She opened her eyes again, then forward, back to reality.

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Mentions: @splice box
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