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Realistic or Modern Harvey's Camp For Troubled Boys | IC

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Characters
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Satanic Nightjar

Satanic Nightjar

reach for the stars and don't settle for the moon
Thanks to everyone who expressed interest for this roleplay and to everyone who took the time to make a quality character. As soon as everyone has created a character and all of our members have been accepted I will start us off! Keep in mind when writing that everyone involved will need to be able to build off of your response, so try to make that possible. I can understand a fairly short reply if nothing is happening except for a simple conversation, but I also believe that time skips may be necessary if nothing important has happened for an extended period of time. I will notify everyone before this happens and make sure we all agree that it's a good idea.

Besides that, I really don't have any rules. If you have any questions or ideas, feel free to PM me or put it in the OOC if everyone is involved in it. Our Discord server is here if you want to place it there. I'm not going to be strictly GMing everything, so I do expect everyone to participate. This doesn't mean I won't be giving us direction and guiding us along, simply that I want everyone to help and put some effort into both the plotting and writing. You can do this in the O

Enjoy the roleplay, my friends! <3
 
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Damon Nocturne


location: bus | mood: pissed | interactions: ^^ | outfit: here




Damon Nocturne wiped the exhaustion from his eyes as the bus coasted to a halt directly in front of his driveway. He could hear the distinct sound of his younger sisters giggling with joy of finally getting rid of him, and he faced them just long enough to carefully raise his middle finger in their direction. The gesture simply made them laugh harder, clutching their stomachs and leaning against the wall of their dilapidated trailer he'd lived in since childhood. His mom had refused to leave behind the (traumatic) memories associated with the small building. Vaguely he wondered if they'd finally move with him gone, and he found himself hoping they did. He would be perfectly fine on his own.

Forcing himself back to reality, he noticed the bus driver waving impatiently. Sighing, Damon ran his fingers through his hair nervously before putting on an indifferent expression and climbing up to the bus. Shoving his way through the terrified first-timers, he scanned the isle for someone who appeared tolerable. He'd learned from experience that forming relationships was necessary to survive at Harvey's, no matter how much he resented making "friends". He decided upon a young man sitting in the back alone, staring out the window expressionlessly. Golden brown hair was stubbornly falling into his eyes, matching perfectly with their intense blue, and everything about him screamed rich and popular - not someone you'd expect to see in this type of crowd. Still, something about him was surprisingly likable, but Damon was unable to pinpoint what it was. Exhaling deeply, he collapsed into the seat, ignoring the obvious shock on the boy's face. After a moment of awkward silence, he offered a hand as the bus took off down the road.

“Damon Nocturne. Obsessive fighting, severe aggression, random acts of violence. Been here twice, they can't seem to figure me out.” He grinned mysteriously, which felt odd. He realized he couldn't remember the last time he smiled. Shaking these thoughts from his head, he leaned back a bit in his seat.

 
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Connor Shiels

This was it.

The aftermath of Hell Week had settled like thick, grey fog. That much, Connor had managed to convince himself of, but honestly it still didn't feel real. He leaned forward in his seat, examining the thin coat of dust on his tennis shoes as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. It was all he could do to stay lucid

In his cloud of oblivious thoughts, he'd unconsciously allowed himself to frown, probably for the first time since the camp sentence was handed down to him from his parents. Honestly, just thinking about that moment sent a cold wave of guilt back down his throat... luckily, he didn't have to dwell on it too long.

A tall, spindly teen slumping unceremoniously into the seat next to him jolted Connor out of the haze. His head jerked up, ready to don a cheery façade at a moment's notice, but this new face wasted no time in introducing himself.

'Damon Nocturne'... gosh, even his name sounded like a rejected vampire novel protagonist. Based on his spiel, Connor couldn't help but be reminded of the kids he used to envy growing up... those latchkey kids who seemed to totally live by their own rules. For a brief moment, he was oddly glad to finally be talking to someone from outside the white picket fence neighborhood, away from the prying eyes of gossipy locals...

Shit! Caught off guard by Damon's forward introduction, Connor hadn't even realized he'd been lost for words for almost 7 seconds. Quickly plastering a smile, he jumped right into a response."Uh, heyyy." He started awkwardly, though he quickly corrected it with an extra dash of charm. "I'm Connor; it's first time out in this neck of the woods. You know this place? I mean, hey, if you're still alive after year 1, it can't be as bad as all that, right?" He'd deliberately left out mentioning his own reason for attendance. The last thing he needed right now was for the harasser to start early. Even if it was only for like 10 minutes, he wanted to pretend he wasn't waiting at death's door.

Satanic Nightjar Satanic Nightjar
​
 
damon nocturne


location: bus | mood: annoyed | interactions: ^^ | outfit: here




Damon ran his fingers over the edge of the seat in front of him. A thick coat of dust had settled in was orbiting his hand now that it was disturbed. As the bus picked up speed, the engine groaned and wheezed and the bus trembled, throwing the smaller kids around. Leaning slightly to the side to counter the sharp turns, he nodded almost unnoticeably. He avoided the kid's eyes as he introduced himself, unsure how to interact with people like him after so many years of isolation. Scanning the bus, he made a mental note of a couple teens that might end up being a threat later on - you could tell by anything from their facial expressions to the way they carried themselves as they shuffled down the isle what sort of person they would become at the camp. After the first experience, the signs become obvious to a trained eye, and he was determined that this time he would be prepared for whatever Harvey's had to offer.

Connor spoke quickly, like he was trying to shove as many syllables into a single breath as possible, and Damon stifled a sigh. He'd always found conversation rather unnecessary, and talking to him was exhausting. Still, Connor was rather charming in his own way, and Damon almost laughed at himself for noticing this - who the hell was he becoming? This camp, he'd learned, was no place for friends. Manipulation, lies, and false relationships, yes. Calculating your every word, pulling the strings from behind the puppet stand, of course, but simple conversation seemed so unfamiliar, so strange. Sighing, he began to regret the decision he'd made - perhaps befriending someone a bit less . . . energetic would have been wise.

Can't be all that bad, right? Damon chuckled softly at those words, his ignorance amusing in a horrible way. Honestly, how did a kid like Connor end up in this situation? He noticed that he purposely left that detail out, covering it up with additional charm.

For a moment, he remained silent, letting the blank expression slip back onto his face, concealing the anger he still felt for being stuck in this position. He realized that he was absentmindedly clutching his hand into a fist, and forced himself to release it. Clearing his throat, he laughed, “Cool, nice to meet you Connor. Yeah, I've been here before and enough for a lifetime, but my mom though it'd be a genius idea to send me right back.” Damon couldn't keep the resentment out of his voice, but instead chose to hide it with an arrogant smile. "And trust me, it can be that bad. Gets pretty tough out here, and if you don't have someone watching your back, you can bet you're gonna get a knife stuck in it."

Damon shoved his unruly brown hair back out of his eyes and stretched his back. Flexing the muscles in his arms, he sat forward a bit to peer down the isle, glaring at anyone who looked his direction.
 
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[div class=container][div class=image] [div class=title]KIANE CRAWLEY [div class=line][/div] [div class=lil]The Burnout[/div][/div] [div class=b][div class=lilimage][/div][/div][/div] [div class=info] [div class=post][div class=scroll] He remembered the first time he'd been dropped off at a rehabitilation centre. His mum had driven him but both his parents had come, hanging around in the lobby like they were reluctant to let him go; his mum had hugged him so hard that she had nearly crushed his ribs and his dad had cried. Every step of the way, they'd promised to be with him. Now, a few rehabs and treatment centres later, they didn't bother. His dad was at work, his mum was at a conference call out of town, and his brother was away at college; they'd given up on him. Instead, Kiane been trusted to wait outside on the sidewalk outside his ordinary-looking house for the bus, standing with his hands in his pockets and a lit cigarette dangling from between his lips. When the bus screeched to a halt in front of him, he dropped the cigarette and ground it into the sidewalk with his foot; the sidewalk was littered with previously discarded cigarette butts.

When one has been to enough places like this, they come to recognise the veterans and the leaders. The boy in the aisle seat had clearly been here before, showing the telltale signs of familiarity and arrogance. Kiane knew it was never a bad thing to have somebody like that on your side and as somebody who went along with pretty much anything without a word and held fierce loyalty, Kiane had a tendency to end up in their good books. He didn't cause problems, he just followed; leaders liked that. Having made initial contact, Kiane withdrew into the window seat opposite and settled for staring out of the window as the bus lurched off again to pick up the next victim. Nobody had rushed to confinscate his lighters or his pack of smokes so he lit another cigarette, slouching in his seat so it wasn't obvious to the bus driver. A quiet boy, he was content to watch the streets pass by rather than talk to the boys across the aisle and wait to suss out this camp for himself.[/div][/div] [div class=pos][div class="round1 round"][/div] . [div class="round2 round"][/div] . [div class="round3 round"][/div] [div class=stats]mood: neutral | mentions: damien & connor| interaction: ditto
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Nikki Rose McLaren stood up out of his house waiting for the bus to Harvey's to come and get him. Then, he heard and saw the bus coming down to come to pick him up. After that, he waved to his family, and said, bye to them. After that, they said, goodbye, and waved back to him. Next,the bus pulled up to his house, and he got on the bus. Also, Nikki gets on the bus, and says, hello, my name is Nikki Rose McLaren. Lastly, he goes and seat down on the bus in a seat that is not taken.
 
Casper Ollila
location: the bus | tags: open | mentions: n/a​
The entire morning leading up to camp, Casper had been unable to stop fidgeting. He'd lost count of the number of times his mother had smacked his hand away from his mouth, or pulled it out of his hair, berating him as they tried to share one last meal together before he was sent off.

Would he even be the same person when he returned? The question made his skin crawl. Would he still like art? Anime? Would his brother still look at him the same way? Would his father?

He was lost in worries as he grabbed his bag.

Now, he stood next to his mother outside the house, well kept but old and just a bit small, silently trying to prepare himself as his hands wrung his bag.

Susan frowned, glancing up at him as she said, quiet, "Control yourself. If you could just control yourself-" She cut off, looking forward again, but she didn't need to continue. Casper knew what she had been about to say.

If he could just control himself, he wouldn't be stuck in this situation in the first place. A situation not even Aaron had been subjected to. He wondered if Aaron would have been any help, if Casper had just tried to find him.

That wouldn't have been as easy as he tried to make it, he reminded himself. Recently, if Aaron didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be. He'd been getting better at that.

Just another thing for Casper to worry about.

Eventually, the bus arrived, and for a second, Casper just looked at it somberly.

Then, of course, his mother pushed him forward, and with one last glance at her uncaring- perhaps even annoyed- face, he climbed into the bus. His eyes took in the other boys, all different varieties of people, and he wondered what each of them had done for their parents to decide to send them here.

His father had told him about this camp- how it was for bad teenagers- teenagers that had done something wrong, that had to be helped.

His eyes dropped, and he tugged at his sleeves, just a bit too short to reach his wrists, taking the nearest empty seat with a quiet apology.
 
Kyungsoo

Mood: Nervous | Interacting with: N/A | Mentions: N/A



A long, airy sigh left Kyungsoo's lips as the bus pulled up to the front of his house. His father wasn't even here to wish him off, too caught up in 'work' to be present when he left. That was okay. He didn't mind; in fact, he preferred his father absent. Besides, at the very least he had been able to say goodbye to his cat, and that was all that mattered to him at this point.

Climbing the bus' steps, Kyungsoo entered the vehicle. There were boys already seated, which wasn't that big of a surprise. Most of the ones who he assumed were newcomers were towards the front, nervously glancing around, whereas the others were grouped together in the back. They were already talking amongst each other, and he didn't feel bothered enough to try and interact with any of them. It would only be awkward and unnecessary socialization.

Heading to an empty section, he relaxed down in the aisle seat so no one could sit beside him. His gaze flickered amongst the various faces of the bus' passengers. Kyungsoo pulled his backpack onto his lap, shuffling in his seat. Anxiety pulsed through his veins but he maintained a calm outward appearance. The last thing he wanted was to let himself become a target just because he was a little sick in the stomach.
code by Ri.a
 
[div class=container][div class=image] [div class=title]Leo Everett [div class=line][/div] [div class=lil]in the bus[/div][/div] [div class=b][div class=lilimage][/div][/div][/div] [div class=info] [div class=post][div class=scroll] How pleasant. This was exactly what his father wanted - to be rid of the problematic son and yet not be the target of blame and hushed gossip. Leo didn’t know much about the camp, but the fact that whoever was behind it assumed that they were troubled children irritated him to no end. He couldn’t speak for the other boys, but whoever Leo was now was the result of his upbringing. His father was the reason behind his issues, and yet he was the one being dragged out and labelled as a spoiled brat in heavy need of a firm hand.

His father hadn’t even bothered hiding his glee when the dreaded bus came, and Leo left without a single word, his tattered but familiar backpack slung over his shoulder. Trudging up the steps unwillingly, he headed for the only empty seat in the bus that wasn’t next to someone else without bothering to greet any of the other boys. There was no point in talking with anyone, especially since most of them seemed unwilling to interact with anyone else, if the way they quickly averted his gaze was any sign.

He made himself comfortable, throwing his backpack onto the seat next to him to prevent anyone else from disturbing the peace. There was no telling if he was the last one to be picked up, or if there were more to come, but the other boys could sit on the floor for all he cared.

Sighing tiredly, Leo leaned back on his seat. His eyelids fluttered shut, the sleepless nights finally taking a toll on his body. His fingers twitched, as if desperate for an object long-lost. His father had stripped him of any protection when he sought to empty the house of lighters, and the insomnia was a side-effect of the lost treasure that had slipped from his hands. Every cell in his body was screaming for the chance to set something on fire, and Leo clenched his fist, biting his lip in an attempt to control himself.[/div][/div] [div class=pos][div class="round1 round"][/div] . [div class="round2 round"][/div] . [div class="round3 round"][/div] [div class=stats]mood: unhappy | mentions: nil | interaction: nil
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Grey Kamikaze
Grey had a feeling he should be more nervous than he actually was. As he looked at his parents, hovering in the kitchen of the hotel room, he was honestly just looking forward to being rid of them. If he was this sick of them after seven days, his only hope was that once he got out of the camp, they would realize that he was a lost cause and set him free. That made the camp his only obstacle to freedom. After eighteen years of obstacles, how bad could it be?

The sound of a rumbling bus engine outside the hotel a moment later still managed to send an unbidden jolt of nausea through him. It was a familiar sensation. It happened every time a shuttle came to take him to his next foster home. Somehow it was a comfort to him that this time, he knew for sure that he was in for a rough ride. Exactly how rough was yet to be determined.

The Blackthornes saw him to the lobby where they exchanged possibly the most awkward goodbyes ever exchanged in the history of awkward exchanges. That almost made him happy to climb aboard the old bus filled with unfriendly faces. That feeling quickly faded, though, into one of slight nervousness. Luckily his face was designed as a mask of tough invulnerability, so hopefully he wouldn’t be starting off his camp interactions looking like a weakling. The fact that his head was only a few inches away from the roof of the bus also probably helped to avoid that impression.

Grey really would have preferred to sit alone, but everyone else seemed to have had the same idea. He kept his feet moving as he tried to decide which boy was least likely to make a fuss if he sat next to them. Without noticing, he had reached the bench seats at the back of the bus, which spanned the width of the bus and already had two occupants, one by each window. He took the middle seat so that there was still space between him and either boy and stared straight ahead through the windshield. Thoughts rushed through his head too fast to be deciphered, but as the bus started moving, one main thought emerged. ’At least I’m rid of the Blackthornes.’
That thought cheered him up quite a bit and he managed to relax, stretching his legs down the middle isle. His eyes traced from side to side as he tried to guess the temperaments of the people in front of him from the backs of their heads. A few were talking, which made it easier to see either threatening glares, or nervous attempts at normal conversation. He tried not to notice the fact that there were already several people whom he felt inclined to avoid, for various reasons. He quickly shut down those thoughts and decided not to worry. He probably wouldn’t see these guys again anyway.
Mentions:
The bus in general
Interactions: None
Outfit: |§|
 
Connor Shiels

Damon's warning stuck with Connor in a way he didn't anticipate. This camp may be more or less like school after all. School, but with kids he didn't know how to read at all. Looking around, he was met with more and more sullen, shadowed faces. The next time the bus grinded to a halt, a young man adorned shoulder-to-wrist in tattoos on both arms silently sidled to the back. Connor had to force himself not to stare.

He felt like a tourist on a jail bus.

Glancing back to Damon, his seatmate for the time being, he nodded quickly, covertly gritting his teeth behind his sunshiney grin. But Damon's gaze had already shifted down the aisle, disappearing into the hazy light from the dust-spackled windows.

So Connor was silent, resting his head on the windowpane and pretending to look out at the landscape. One of his hands strayed up to his face, absentmindedly picking at his eyebrow. This, he knew, would be a terrible place to dissociate or lose track of time. That much he trusted Damon on.​
 
damon nocturne

location: bus | mood: distant | interactions: ^^ | outfit: here




Damon scooted across the leather seats of the bus and leaned against the opposite window to allow the newcomer some space to sit. He was tall, intimidating, and his pale skin was decorated with a large variety of colorful tattoos. The boy appeared to be the very definition of 'threat' to Damon, and his wordless entrance simply reinforced this belief. Forcing himself not to stare, he turned to gaze nonchalantly out the smudged glass. He could sense the apprehension and anxiety in the air like a poisonous gas, almost suffocating. Choosing to ignore it, he focused all of his attention at the monotonous grey and green blur of the forest tunnel they were currently traveling through, and the shadows dancing across the cracked asphalt beneath the wheels of the bus.

As they continued to drive, Damon was reminded of the long bus rides to school of his childhood. These memories were ones he tended to avoid, but that occasionally resurfaced despite his best efforts. A flood of anger washed over him, and his fingers once again tightened into a fist, prepared to throw themselves at an invisible enemy. That was the thing about memories - they existed only to taunt you with the certainty that you never again could return to the most cherished moments of your past.

Sometimes he envied himself, the ignorance, the blissful unawareness of his younger self. Before he was capable of comprehending the drugs that were slowly pulling his father further and further away from him. Who didn't understand the reason his dad suddenly never wanted to play superheroes in the backyard, who slapped him even when he couldn't seem to remember misbehaving. Who had to go and fucking die before Damon got a chance to hit him back and make him suffer for the horrible things he did to their family.

A steady stream of blood trickled down his index finger and he realized he had been digging the nail of his thumb into it. "Shit," he mumbled out loud, smearing it onto the tattered black seat in front of him.
 
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Travaughn

St-Germaine​

location: bus

mood: neutral, slightly stressed

mentions: connor

interactions: kiane

outfit: x


His eyes settled on the block of mid-rise flats situated across the road from him. Seated on a power box that had in its own lifetime become a canvas for many an aspiring neighbourhood Banksy's and defaced with years worth of graffiti, the past few minutes had seen the young St-Germaine lost in his own sea of thoughts. What had initially begun as a minute’s wait for the bus had turned to ten minutes worth of absent-minded reverie in an effort to escape the feelings of lingering boredom on his mind. That, and the feeling of slight apprehension that was beginning to grow in his chest with every passing moment.

Tracing his fingers over the marked etchings, he found the familiar initials of his name marked into the olive drab surface of the box, followed by a series of symbols undistinguishable to the common eye: some of which had evidently been freshly added since the last time he'd been there. Travaughn reached a hand into his pocket. He had only managed to get three lines into the dull plastic of the box when the sound of an approaching vehicle caught his attention. A sigh left his mouth: part of him had been hoping the bus wouldn't turn up. He slipped his pocket knife away before pushing himself up onto his feet.

With an air of indifference, he made his way onto the bus, but not before bringing his palm up to slam the top of the doorframe with an audible thud. It had earned him a scowl from the driver, but only brought about a laugh from Travaughn as he continued inside. Walking down the bus aisle, Travaughn surveyed the people around him. Nodding over at the occasional person who would turn to look over at him in curiosity as he passed by, he laughed to himself at the amount of gloomy faces he observed, as well as the looks of bemusement that would transpire with every nod of greeting that he passed.

Except... Fuck. His definition of 'comfort zone' was different to that of everyone elses. He had grown up with a close circle of friends and, ever since the move, little had changed in respect to that fact. It was this unfamiliar new environment that was giving him these feelings of unease. Even then, he would be lying if he said there wasn't the smallest part of him that was somehow looking forward to it: this was among one of the only times he’d probably stepped foot outside the security of his own surroundings. It wasn't everyday that he actually had an opportunity to go somewhere. The more he thought about it though, the more he had begun to doubt his decision to have stepped foot onto the bus.

Patting his pockets down with a small sliver of hope, seconds later Travaughn had brought out a joint that had found its way there at some point in the past, only to resurface today of all days. He looked at it for a moment, contemplating whether it would be a good idea. He usually never smoked when he wasn’t surrounded by his friends: it was more of a social thing when he felt like he could relax in the safety of his surroundings-- but fuck it. This could very well be his last joint for the whole of summer; he might as well make the most of it.

Another pat-down and he realised the only thing missing was his lighter. Observing some smoke from the back of the coach, Travaughn narrowed his eyes before slowly making his way over to the end row. It wasn’t a long walk; he’d already been halfway down the aisle when he'd noticed the grey wisps filling into the air.

He’d hardly even noticed the person slouched at the window seat opposite the other brown-haired guy until he followed the trail of smoke to its source. He couldn't see who it was behind the dark curls of hair, but he really didn't care. The lighter was all he wanted, and that may have partially been the reason why he hadn't even been paying attention to the others seated around.

He tapped the guy on the shoulder to get his attention before gesturing over at his joint, “Light me up.” He passed a glance at the window for a moment, a momentary distraction as he slipped the unlit joint between his lips and reached forward to open the thing up. With a frown, he placed the joint back into his hand and wafted his hand through the air to clear some of the smoke before turning back to the person in question. It was practically summer already; not to mention the smell of nicotine and tar filling up in an enclosed space was disgusting enough as it was.


codedbycrucialstar​
 
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[div class=container][div class=image] [div class=title]KIANE CRAWLEY [div class=line][/div] [div class=lil]The Burnout[/div][/div] [div class=b][div class=lilimage][/div][/div][/div] [div class=info] [div class=post][div class=scroll] The bus trundled on its way, occasionally pulling to a stop at the side of the street to let a boy or two on. Slowly, the bus began to fill up with rowdy chatter, (mostly nearer the front where the younger boys were), and occasional nods of solidarity. Despite the fact that empty seats were starting to become a commodity, the one beside Kiane remained empty and he began to wonder whether the haze of smoke was that off-putting. His gaze grew faraway as he stared out of the window, trying to picture what was on the other end of this bus journey, and was only brought back to reality by the thump of somebody's hand slapping the doorframe of the bus. Kiane jolted, his eyes refocusing as it occured to him that the kids at his high school would do that- did do that- not that he'd been anytime recently.

He didn't have time to consider this further as the newcomer slipped to the back of the bus and took the seat next to him. In the few brief seconds he had to observe, he noted the joint in his hand first and the boy second. The boy looked about the same age as him, (though these things were difficult to gage), slightly taller, (especially due to Kiane slouchcing), and irritated by the smell of nicotine. Wordlessly, Kiane obliged his request and lit the boy's blunt for him; part of him couldn't believe they were getting away with this because at his previous rehab, they seemed to grow concerned if you were even thinking about smoking up. Uncanny, really. As a peace offering, Kiane leaned forward and stubbed his cigarette out on one of the seats in front. He doubted the boy in front of them would notice as he seemed to have passed as soon as he collapsed into his seat.

"Can I have a hit?" Kiane conceded, after staring at his seatmate's joint for a solid minute or so; then, realising he hadn't even introduced himself, he added, "I'm Kiane. I'm a junkie, have been since I moved here. That's kind of why I'm here because I've been to a bunch of other places and nothing's worked so my parents figured it was more of a behavioural thing than a chemical thing. As long as I don't have to weave anymore fucking baskets, I'm happy with anything."

When he joked, he cracked a grin and it seemed to soften his face, make him look younger and less exhausted. It only lasted a second before it disappear and was replaced by his usual neutral sort of look, (it had taken many years of practice to perfect). Kiane still spoke with an accent, despite having lived here for several years now, and it seemed like he took a great deal of time carefully selecting his words. Part of it might've been leftover from the brain-addling drugs but mostly, Kiane had always spoken like that. Slow, thoughtful, careful. If he got overexcited or frustrated, he started to stammer and that drove him crazy.

He would have preferred something a little harder to give him a bump but it was better than nothing and God knows this might be his last chance for a while, (Kiane didn't think of quitting as quitting anymore but as more of an extended break, which he supposed was part of the problem). He did hate how hungry weed made him, even hungrier than he usually was, which was one of the reasons he'd neglected it in favour of other drugs in the past. But in places like this- and he knew this from experience- you settle for anything. Seriously, he used to room with an alcoholic that would drink mouthwash. [/div][/div] [div class=pos][div class="round1 round"][/div] . [div class="round2 round"][/div] . [div class="round3 round"][/div] [div class=stats]mood: neutral | mentions: leo | interaction: travaughn
location: bus | outfit: x [/div][/div][/div][/div] [class=container]height: 340px; width: 500px; padding: 10px; margin: auto; background: #9C94A9 [/class] [class=image]height: 100%; width: 180px; background-image: url(https://booker-storm.s3.amazonaws.com/library/508/20181031_06084694_M.JPG); background-size: 200%; background-position: 55% 30% [/class] [class=title]position: relative; top: 15px; left: 190px; width: 230px; text-transform: uppercase; font-size: 20px; color: #bc4060 [/class] [class=line]height: 1px; width: 100%; background: #5a1527 [/class] [class=lil]position: relative; width: 96%; text-align: right; font-style: italic; font-size: 10px; text-transform: lowercase; letter-spacing: 1px; color: #202020; [/class] [class=b]position: relative; left: 420px; top: -45px; height: 65px; width: 65px; padding: 5px; border-radius: 0px 100px 100px 100px; border: 1px solid #5a1527 [/class] [class=lilimage]height: 100%; width: 100%; border-radius: 0px 100px 100px 100px; background-image: url(https://i.pinimg.com/236x/6e/44/16/6e4416521a4122ad0650d3480c3596bc--character-inspiration-faces.jpg); background-size: 200%; background-position: 60% 55% [/class] [class=info]position: relative; left: 190px; top: -245px; height: 245px; width: 310px [/class] [class=post]height: 200px; width: 103%; font-size: 10px; overflow: hidden [/class] [class=scroll]height: 100%; width: 100%; overflow-y: scroll; text-align: justify; padding-right: 30px [/class] [class=pos]position: relative; top: 15px; height: 35px; width: 305px; text-align: center; color: transparent; overflow: hidden [/class] [class=round]position: relative; display: inline-block; height: 25px; width: 25px; border-radius: 100%; background: #D1565B; transition: 0.7s; [/class] [class=round2]transition: 0.7s; display: inline-block; height: 25px; width: 25px; border-radius: 100%; background: #B9B5CC [/class] [class=round3]transition: 0.7s; display: inline-block; height: 25px; width: 25px; border-radius: 100%; background: #E6AFA8 [/class] [class=bla]background: #f2979f [/class] [class=ble]background: #786a81 [/class] [class=blo]background: #d05f7a [/class] [class=stats]position: relative; top: 10px; width: 100%; margin: auto;font-weight: 800; font-size: 9px; color: white [/class] [script class=post on=mouseenter] addClass bla round1 addClass ble round2 addClass blo round3 [/script] [script class=post on=mouseleave] removeClass bla round1 removeClass ble round2 removeClass blo round3 [/script] [script class=pos on=mouseenter] addClass up round addClass up stats removeClass down round removeClass down2 stats [/script] [script class=pos on=mouseleave] addClass down round addClass down2 stats addClass up round addClass up stats [/script] [class name=up] animation-name: {post_id}up; animation-direction: normal; animation-duration: 0.5s; animation-delay: 0s; animation-timing-function: ease-out; animation-iteration-count: 1; animation-fill-mode: both; [/class] [animation=up] [keyframe=0]top: 0px[/keyframe] [keyframe=100]top: -30px[/keyframe] [/animation] [class name=down] animation-name: {post_id}down; animation-direction: normal; animation-duration: 0.5s; animation-delay: 0s; animation-timing-function: ease-out; animation-iteration-count: 1; animation-fill-mode: both; [/class] [animation=down] [keyframe=0]top: -30px[/keyframe] [keyframe=100]top: 0px[/keyframe] [/animation] [class name=down2] animation-name: {post_id}down2; animation-direction: normal; animation-duration: 0.5s; animation-delay: 0s; animation-timing-function: ease-out; animation-iteration-count: 1; animation-fill-mode: both; [/class] [animation=down2] [keyframe=0]top: -30px[/keyframe] [keyframe=100]top: 10px[/keyframe] [/animation]
 
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Cian's father had no choice but to send him to this camp, or at least that was what he said. Despite the fact that each of those boys had attacked him multiple times, Cian was the only one being disciplined for it. He supposed being rich, and being related to the school principal had it's perks. His fathers parting words were "I'm sorry son, but be thankful it's not juvie. You nearly killed one of those boys." Cian had not responded. He wasn't ashamed of it at all. He felt like his father should be on his side, but he was right. He could come back from this, not from juvie. He wasn't getting a scholarship, but he could get an education. He could still graduate, still go on to study at university. There was still hope.

The bus arrived at his doorstep. It was a loud old thing, rattling to a stop in front of him. When he entered, the bus was already full. Was he one of the last to arrive? There were very few empty seats left, everyone had gone for one. He would have to choose someone to sit next to. He saw two options immediately, one was a small boy with wavy black hair nearly hiding his face who looked rather timid, someone he could easily sit next to and who probably wouldn't bother him all to much, or there was another kid, even shorter and Asian who had purposely taken the aisle seat so that no one would sit next to him. Maybe in this idiotic camp full of testosterone and teenage grudges, it would make a statement.

Nah. Too much effort. This kid might have an attitude.

Cian headed over to the timid boy hoping for a quiet bus ride. He sat down next to him silently and combed a hand trough his straight red hair and stared at the seat in front of him. He peeked at the boy he sat next to after a while. He looked exactly the way Cian used to look. Small, not in body but in mindset. He felt a pang of sympathy for him. It was hard, being shy, being fearful of everything and everyone around you. Especially in a new place. He felt an instinct that made him want to look out for him. This place was going to be rough, there might even be some genuinely bad people here just out to hurt others. he was going to get eaten alive like that. "You shouldn't sit like that, all small and scrunched in to yourself. It will just put a target on your back." He cooly met the kids eyes. His expression was fairly neutral "Try to at least look others in the face." It was advice he hoped the kid listened too, but he wouldn't repeat it. He wasn't here to babysit, his first priority had to be himself. He didn't want to seem too compassionate, it was something others could use against him, like they had with his dog.
Interacting with: mikaluvkitties mikaluvkitties
Mood: neutral
Outfit:
566936
 
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Casper Ollila
location: the bus | tags: Sook Sook | mentions: n/a​
Casper continued tugging at his sleeves as person after person entered the bus, curling up further and further even as others began to talk amongst themselves.

He didn’t like this shirt, the way it didn’t seem to want to fit him right. He liked the binder even less, lungs feeling more restricted than he had expected. How did Aaron live with it? He tried to stay calm, to just keep breathing, but honestly, he was terrified- what was going to happen?

Someone sat next to him, and his gaze flitted to him before quickly going back to his sleeves, eyebrows drawn together and lips pursed. Subconsciously, he scooted away, backing himself further into the corner the seat and window formed.

And then he was being spoken to. He froze, blinking, and, slowly, looked up, eyes wide. He was being spoken to. Words began to form sentences in Casper’s head, and his lips parted as he looked down. Stop scrunching up. That’s what he was being asked to do.

It sounded so easy when it was put like that. And yet, Casper couldn’t. He couldn’t. Stretching out made him feel vulnerable- more vulnerable than he could handle. His gaze darted out the window, then back to this boy, speaking so coolly to him that it almost made him want to curl up more, and he forced himself to hold eye contact, even as he wanted to look away.

He tried to find words, any at all, and the longer time passed without a word, the more his gaze dropped back to his lap, and his sleeves. He began tugging them again.

That had been rude. He couldn’t just leave it like that, could he?


He could, a part of himself, that part most touched by Theo, whispered, but he ignored it in favor of whispering, “Okay...”

He wished Theo were here. He’d always kept Casper safe, hadn’t he? Even when his brother had decided it was too much work, Theo had been there. His heart ached for him, even as he told it not to. He was here because he had done something wrong.

He’d probably never talk to Theo again. The thought made him curl up more, lost in thought.
 
Damon Nocturne


location: camp | mood: pissed | mentions: ^^ | outfit: here





Anger rushed through him, and Damon felt the familiar urge to take it out on someone, anyone. Ironic that his first response to being returned here was to fall back on the habits that landed him here in the first place. Somebody might have been seriously injured if the bus hadn't turned sharply onto a road that to call "paved" would have required a major stretch of the imagination. It was cracked and the paint faded to the point where it's very existence was debatable, and the bus rocked as if an invisible hand was had picked it up like a toy car and began violently shaking it. After another few moments, it coasted to a halt in front of a small cabin. Familiar gravel paths extended in all directions, leading to different campsites and activities to be revealed in a tour later tonight. Every detail of the horrible experience was burned into Damon's mind and left scars deep enough he doubted he'd ever forget it. Harvey's was designed to be memorable; part of why it was so successful.

As the bus doors slid open noisily, kids began silently filtering out the doors. They were intercepted just before exiting by muscular guards in the event that someone decided to make a break for it, who were accompanied by an older man who was wearing a obviously false attempt at a welcoming smile. His graying hair was combed back and rebellious strands were bravely sticking up in the center. Absentmindedly, Damon realized that it looked like a mini McDonald's logo placed carelessly on his head. At this thought, he snorted unwilling, attracting unwanted attention from the guards, and he aimed a glare at them, balling his hands into fists and making sure that they noticed.

The older man introduced himself as Jason Abernathy, to be addressed as "Sir" each and every time he was spoken to. They would be lead to their different campgrounds and given a chance to settle in, and in exactly one hour the official tour would begin. Anyone who was late would be punished,

 



Travaughn

St-Germaine​

location: camp

mood: neutral, buzzed

mentions: n/a

interactions: kiane

outfit: x


Within seconds of the joint being lit, Travaughn had leaned back into his seat, taking a long drag of the marijuana. It took little over a minute before he had begun to feel a mild sense of tranquility creeping in on him. With every exhalation, it felt as though whatever feelings of unease he once held had begun to vanish. It felt like his mind was freeing itself of all that stress that had been building up in his chest, and that he could finally begin to breathe right.

Slowly opening his eyes to the sound of a question that had surfaced, he let a cloud of smoke billow out into the air before turning to his seatmate. If Travaughn had been more sober and unconsumed by the buzzing, floating sensation which several hits of the joint had brought about in him, there was a chance his seatmate’s request for a hit would have been met with something other than a questioning glance and furrowing of the brows. But weed had an effect of mellowing people. Travaughn wasn't exempt from its effects.

Maybe it had been the confidence with which the guy spoke, or the effects of the drug on Travaughn, but something seemed to instil in him a sense of trust in Kiane. He’d found himself reacting more amicably, passing a smile at the mention of the baskets, as well as a half-amused “No shit, for real?” in response. In some ways, that small exchange of dialogue seemed to put him at ease because, by this point, he was less concerned about the more unfavourable aspect of being in an unfamiliar environment, and more focused on the conversation at hand.

For the duration of time that Kiane had been speaking, Travaughn had found himself focusing on his voice in particular, mainly because this had been the first time he had heard the guy speak and mainly as a way of trying to figure out where the guy was from. He didn’t bear an American accent: that much was evident. It was the way he delivered his words that seemed to stick out the most to Travaughn though: how calm and collected the guy sounded. It wasn’t something you heard everyday. It sounded calming in a way he couldn't explain.

As the bus continued on its way, he took the opportunity to introduce himself. “Travaughn,” he nodded over at him, ashing the joint with a tap before passing it over to the guy. He wasn’t planning on laying out the reasons as to why he was here, and even if Kiane was to question him about it, the shaking of the bus had already proven a distraction. Travaughn had been meaning to ask Kiane about his accent, but by the time the rattling had subsided, the sight of their new surroundings had already drawn his attention away, and his eyes shifted over to the window, where he observed their new location: Harvey's Camp.

"Guess we arrived," he stated after what must have been seconds later, before slipping a glance at the joint in Kiane's hand. A lot of it still hadn't burned out yet, and it was unlikely either of them would be able to finish it anytime soon. "I'm going to save it for later," he said, gesturing over at the joint, "put it out and twist it up when you're done." And it had probably been one of the last things he'd said before everyone had made their way off the bus, in time for the introductory speech.


codedbycrucialstar​
 
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Nikki Rose McLaren went and sat down to waiting for the interdiction speech to start. He changed his clothes, and hair, before he sat down. Then, he is drinking some root beer. Also, he is drawing on a piece of paper. Lastly, after he gets done drawing, he goes to sleep.
 
[div class=container][div class=image] [div class=title]KIANE CRAWLEY [div class=line][/div] [div class=lil]The Burnout[/div][/div] [div class=b][div class=lilimage][/div][/div][/div] [div class=info] [div class=post][div class=scroll] Travaughn seemed chill enough, compared to everyone else on this bus. A decent guy. An enabler, maybe, to willingly hand over a joint to a self-admitted druggie but Kiane had never had a problem with that. He took the joint, subconsciously shifting closer to the window as if he was worried that Travaughn would snatch it back, and something akin to relief washed over him. Needily, he took a long drag from it and closed his eyes, feeling better than he'd felt in days. His addiction was biological, yes, but psychological too and going so many days without even going near a drug had been driving him crazy. When he opened his eyes, he felt disgusting that he had grabbed someone else's joint so desperately when he was supposed to be clean and briefly wondered what Travaughn must think of him. But it was just marijuana- it wasn't like they were doing coke or anything. His internal conflict was evident on his face as his eyebrows knitted together in a frown and he took another drag. Fleetingly, Kiane wondered what Travaughn might've done to get stuck here. A junkie like him? A dealer? But he knew better to ask outright, (last time he'd been stupid enough to do something like that, he'd needed medical attention- lesson learnt), and before he could think of a subtle way of finding out, he was distracted by the rattling of the bus driving over an old path.

Fuck, Kiane thought as the bus jolted to a final stop at the camp itself. He wasn't nearly high enough to deal with patronising welcomes and adults who wanted to "help" them get better, (as far as he was concerned, they could save it. He couldn't speak for everybody else on this bus but he'd been born a fuck-up). He barely heard Travaughn's instructions, thankful they were seated at the back and had to wait for everyone else to filter out, as he waited until the last possible second to put the joint out and twist the end reluctantly. Wordlessly, Kiane slipped it inside his jacket pocket as they followed the other boys outside to inspect his latest prison. It was hardly a haven, hardly a home away from home, but it seemed nicer than his last place at least, where going outside had been considered a privilige you had to earn. Jump through the fucking hoops and we'll allow you basic human rights- this place seemed less constricting, so far. Though the guards made Kiane nervous, thinking of the joint tucked away in his pocket. He didn't like the way they looked at him.

And he was right to be nervous. Once Abernathy had finished his speech, Kiane turned to look for Travaughn so that he could pass the joint back and was immediately accosted by two men who seemed double his height. They had to be half-giant, Kiane was sure, to tower so menancingly over him like mountains and immediately, he knew that he was in trouble. He wondered if somebody else had already snitched on them and his fears seemed conformed when he glanced round and saw that nobody else had been affronted so quickly. This clearly wasn't a mandatory search for everybody here- he'd been picked out.

"Crawley," The fact that he was addressed by name made him anxious and Kiane tried not to shrink away, knowing that as soon as you looked guilty you were fucked regardless of what was in your pockets, "We're going to have to search you."

Kiane made a show of looking confused, widening his eyes as his heart pounded in his chest, "But I haven't done anything."

One of the guards, who seemed particularly cruel, seemed to be happy to deliver the punchline, "Your mother tipped us off that we should search you. She was concerned that you might be carrying illegal substances."

Bitch, Kiane thought miserably. He pictured his mother sitting in her swanky hotel room, preparing for her business conference downstairs in some fancy room with champagne, and re-applying her lipstick in the mirror. She would pick up her phone and dial ahead to the camp, telling them that she was concerned. Concerned that he might have drugs on him, (even though she knew he was clean). That he might be carrying drugs, not using them, like he might have stashed them in his pocket by accident. His mother liked to treat his addiction as if it was entirely seperate to him, like it was an unpleasant house guest who refused to leave. Like Kiane had no choice in whether he did heroin or not. When he had first been admitted to rehab, his parents had assured him that they were on his side. It was him and them battling his addiction, together every step of the way. They had stressed that it wasn't him that upset them but his addiction, as if it was some monster that lived under his skin and he had nothing to do with it. Like it was something you could catch off a toilet seat.

So much for being a team, Kiane thought bitterly, as he willingly let the guard pat him down. One of them had taken his bag and was turning his belongings out onto the floor in front of everyone, like some kind of humiliation ritual. He hated the way his clothes were stuffed messily back into his bag with no regard for how they'd been neatly folded before. Externally, Kiane showed no signs of fear and instead masked it with a confused expression, as if he had no clue what was going on. Internally, he was panicking. If it had been his joint, he would've handed it over without question and just taken whatever punishment they doled out. Stripped of priviliges or whatever. His parents would be disappointed, sure, but it wasn't like he'd be there to see it.

But this wasn't his joint and already he felt some kind of loyalty towards Travaughn, enough that he didn't want to lose the boy's joint that he was saving. If he'd suspected they were going to search him, he would've stuffed the joint in his mouth or something. Heck, his underwear, (maybe Travaughn would've let him keep it then). But now, he didn't have time to slip it somewhere they wouldn't check; the guards were already on him like flies.

"Empty your pockets, Crawley," The cruel one smirked, as if he already knew. He seemed to be delighting in the opportunity to publicly humiliate someone already, confirming Kiane's theory that only literal psychopaths would want to work at a place like this.

Silently, Kiane looked past them at some of the other boys, pleading for them to do something as he turned the pockets of his jeans out. His lighter was taken immediately, along with his packet of cigarettes which he doubted he was going to see again any time soon. He looked around for some kind of distraction that would allow him to slip the joint somewhere less obvious. As he fumbled with the pockets of his jackets, slowly as he could manage, he locked eyes with one of the other boys and begged for him to do something. Anything. [/div][/div] [div class=pos][div class="round1 round"][/div] . [div class="round2 round"][/div] . [div class="round3 round"][/div] [div class=stats]mood: panicked | mentions: travaughn | interaction: open
location: camp | outfit: x [/div][/div][/div][/div] [class=container]height: 340px; width: 500px; padding: 10px; margin: auto; background: #9C94A9 [/class] [class=image]height: 100%; width: 180px; background-image: url(https://booker-storm.s3.amazonaws.com/library/508/20181031_06084694_M.JPG); background-size: 200%; background-position: 55% 30% [/class] [class=title]position: relative; top: 15px; left: 190px; width: 230px; text-transform: uppercase; font-size: 20px; color: #bc4060 [/class] [class=line]height: 1px; width: 100%; background: #5a1527 [/class] [class=lil]position: relative; width: 96%; text-align: right; font-style: italic; font-size: 10px; text-transform: lowercase; letter-spacing: 1px; color: #202020; [/class] [class=b]position: relative; left: 420px; top: -45px; height: 65px; width: 65px; padding: 5px; border-radius: 0px 100px 100px 100px; border: 1px solid #5a1527 [/class] [class=lilimage]height: 100%; width: 100%; border-radius: 0px 100px 100px 100px; background-image: url(https://i.pinimg.com/236x/6e/44/16/6e4416521a4122ad0650d3480c3596bc--character-inspiration-faces.jpg); background-size: 200%; background-position: 60% 55% [/class] [class=info]position: relative; left: 190px; top: -245px; height: 245px; width: 310px [/class] [class=post]height: 200px; width: 103%; font-size: 10px; overflow: hidden [/class] [class=scroll]height: 100%; width: 100%; overflow-y: scroll; text-align: justify; padding-right: 30px [/class] [class=pos]position: relative; top: 15px; height: 35px; width: 305px; text-align: center; color: transparent; overflow: hidden [/class] [class=round]position: relative; display: inline-block; height: 25px; width: 25px; border-radius: 100%; background: #D1565B; transition: 0.7s; [/class] [class=round2]transition: 0.7s; display: inline-block; height: 25px; width: 25px; border-radius: 100%; background: #B9B5CC [/class] [class=round3]transition: 0.7s; display: inline-block; height: 25px; width: 25px; border-radius: 100%; background: #E6AFA8 [/class] [class=bla]background: #f2979f [/class] [class=ble]background: #786a81 [/class] [class=blo]background: #d05f7a [/class] [class=stats]position: relative; top: 10px; width: 100%; margin: auto;font-weight: 800; font-size: 9px; color: white [/class] [script class=post on=mouseenter] addClass bla round1 addClass ble round2 addClass blo round3 [/script] [script class=post on=mouseleave] removeClass bla round1 removeClass ble round2 removeClass blo round3 [/script] [script class=pos on=mouseenter] addClass up round addClass up stats removeClass down round removeClass down2 stats [/script] [script class=pos on=mouseleave] addClass down round addClass down2 stats addClass up round addClass up stats [/script] [class name=up] animation-name: {post_id}up; animation-direction: normal; animation-duration: 0.5s; animation-delay: 0s; animation-timing-function: ease-out; animation-iteration-count: 1; animation-fill-mode: both; [/class] [animation=up] [keyframe=0]top: 0px[/keyframe] [keyframe=100]top: -30px[/keyframe] [/animation] [class name=down] animation-name: {post_id}down; animation-direction: normal; animation-duration: 0.5s; animation-delay: 0s; animation-timing-function: ease-out; animation-iteration-count: 1; animation-fill-mode: both; [/class] [animation=down] [keyframe=0]top: -30px[/keyframe] [keyframe=100]top: 0px[/keyframe] [/animation] [class name=down2] animation-name: {post_id}down2; animation-direction: normal; animation-duration: 0.5s; animation-delay: 0s; animation-timing-function: ease-out; animation-iteration-count: 1; animation-fill-mode: both; [/class] [animation=down2] [keyframe=0]top: -30px[/keyframe] [keyframe=100]top: 10px[/keyframe] [/animation]
 
377d45fde76474d3a4ab06f234fbc1b3.jpg
The reaction was about what Cian had expected., he remained curled up, his gaze flitted rapidly between him and his shoes, barely holding eye-contact at all. For the longest time the kid didn't reply. Cian had all but given up and returned to his own thoughts when he heard a small voice say 'Okay', and then return to silence again. Cian didn't want to immediately attach himself to, from what he could tell, the weakest person on this bus, but he seriously reminded Cian of himself and the annoying angel on his shoulder was fighting the devil and winning. "What's your name? I'm Cian." He said, in as friendly a way as he could manage without breaking his forever expressionless mask. "I'm not exactly sure what to expect. Maybe some kind of religious thing, team building exercises or something stupid that wont reform anyone...." He raised an eyebrow at the kid "Any idea? Did your parents tell you anything about it?" He tried to engage the kid in conversation, hoping to relax him a little... make him feel like he's got an ally. Everything that Cian didn't have when he was a quivering mess of a boy in school. "Anyway, what's the worst that can happen? it's not like we're on a prison bus here"

Just as he was saying that, he noticed the bus slowing to a halt. "Oh, I guess we're about to find out." He said standing up and waiting for others to get into the walkway before him so that the nervous kid could stand behind him "Come with me, If you want." He threw over his shoulder at Casper and moved to exit the bus. As they left the bus, it seemed that it might be a little more like juvie than expected, with the state of the security they'd hired. He supposed, with the amount of teenage boys and bottled up anger all in one place it might be necessary to have gigantic bodybuilder guards. Cian filed out of the bus, his hands in his pockets, and stood where the others were gathered, surrounding an old man with a fake smile and a very disconcerting feel to him.

He made a little speech, demanding things like being called "sir" talking about a tour of the camp that would be taking place in exactly an hour and that anyone who was late would be disciplined, yadda yadda. He didn't pay much attention to it, and he could tell most of the other boys were the same. After "Sir" Was done he waited expectantly to be told where he was to set down his things.
Interacting with: mikaluvkitties mikaluvkitties
Mood: bored
Outfit:
View attachment 566936
 
Grey Kamikaze
Grey usually would have been able to entertain himself better on a long car ride, especially with plenty of new people to look at. Instead, he soon had to fight to keep himself from fidgeting. He quickly lost that fight and spent several minutes tying knots in a string that was coming out of his jacket sleeve. Although he looked up when the last few boys were picked up, his attention didn’t really shift until the bus started shaking like a carnival ride from hell. He definitely huffed under his breath a few times before shifting into a bracing position to keep from being launched down the aisle with every pothole they hit.
When the bus stopped, he forgot to be anything other than relieved for a moment. He had plenty of time before getting off the bus for the relief to fade as he had to wait for everyone that wasn’t in the very back row to get off.

Still, Grey was perfectly composed as he climbed out of the bus and took in the sight of the small cabin. The presence of the guards screamed ‘don’t run away, or else,’ which honestly hadn’t been on his mind until the moment he saw them. Suddenly he was quite tempted to try it though. Just for funsies.
He was distracted, not by the creepy old man’s speech (he had heard those speeches before), but by a smaller kid being approached by two of the guards. He watched passively for a moment, then realized that they were going through his stuff, and rather carelessly at that. His mind naturally returned to an escape attempt, and the chaotic demon inside of him might as well have started giggling. ‘Why not?’

His eyes flitted from guard to guard, feet shifting, then looked into the woods, just enough to catch the edge of the guards’ attention. He shifted forward slowly, caught the desperate look in the boy’s eyes and gave him a subtle wink, then, with a quick hop to start, he took off running, slamming a purposeful shoulder into the guard who had been going for intimidation points over the kid before heading for the woods.
He didn’t have any fanciful ideas of actually succeeding in his escape attempt since he didn’t know this forest, but as he ran, wind rushing and legs pumping, he allowed a moment of hopeful bliss. A magical fantasy of freedom. Before he was body-slammed from behind.
It hurt more than he expected it to, but more unpleasant was the crushing weight of the man on top of him. After an unnecessarily long delay, he was pulled up by his arms, giving him the chance to spit out a mouthful of dirt and blood that he didn’t know the source of. He was promptly marched back to the group and he could feel the guards’ satisfaction with the immediate chance to show off their prowess, not to mention the gift of a chance to humiliate someone. Grey had actually found the run to be rather refreshing, so, although it didn’t quite warrant a smile, he felt rather pleased with himself. He looked to the creepy old man, hoping to catch the predictable look of disapproval that was so familiar to him.
Mentions: Kiane, the group
Interactions: jinkx jinkx
Outfit: |§|
 
Damon Nocturne


location: camp | mood: neutral | mentions: Connor | outfit: here




When Abernathy completed his speech, additional guards seemed to appear out of thin air, gesturing for the boys to follow them. The man was loaded into a massive car that must once have been extremely expensive but now was worn for years of use on these unpaved forest roads. He muttered something as he left that caused the young man who must have been his personal guard to laugh obnoxiously as they left. The thick smell of the car's exhaust was suffocating in the clear air, and Damon almost choked when it reached him, lungs coughing forcefully without his permission.

They were escorted to the cabins, which were small, wooden constructions that looked as if a mild storm might destroy them completely. Everyone was forced into a single-file line as they entered, the majority of the group directed to one cabin, Cabin A, but one or two sent to B. Last year, B was for kids that were messed up enough to be kept separate from the rest, the very worst of the very worst. Damon was sent to cabin A, to his amusement. They'd learn soon enough that he was dangerous, potentially too late for it to possibly matter. The very idea curled his lips into a smirk, which earned him a warning glance from one of the guards hovering nearby. "Oh, fuck off," he muttered under his breath in his direction, just loud enough to be heard but not cause a scene.

The first boy in line, who Damon didn't recognize, swung the door open carelessly, revealing the interior of the cabin. It was completely empty, aside from bunk beds lining the walls, practically piled atop one another. Immediately upon entering, Damon hurried toward a top bunk and ascended the ladder in a single movement, quickly beginning to unpack his things in the tiny compartment built into the wall that was provided. After a moment he turned and caught Connor's eye, gesturing to the bunk beside him. A single sheet was thrown carelessly onto each mattress, along with a bare pillow. This was what he'd be sleeping on for the following summer, as his mother couldn't be bothered to spare a sheet for him to pack. After a quick survey of the room, he noticed that many of the other campers were struggling with the same problem, attempting to make the bed look as inviting as possible. He snorted in disgust, lying back on the bed forcefully enough to make the wood supporting it crack in protest. Half an hour remained until the tour began. He wondered what the punishment would be if he showed up a minute or so late.

Digging through his backpack, he found one last thing that he'd had stashed away. A glass bottle, the label removed, was at the very bottom, miraculously unbroken. Taking a long drink, he settled back onto the uncomfortable pillow, trying not to think about the situation he was currently in. Rather unsuccessfully, but this was the only solution he'd found for suffering - ignoring it and getting a drink. After a few minutes, the anger from earlier had begun to subside, and he rested his head back against the wall, closing his eyes and retreating into his swirling thoughts.

 
[div class=container][div class=image] [div class=title]KIANE CRAWLEY [div class=line][/div] [div class=lil]The Burnout[/div][/div] [div class=b][div class=lilimage][/div][/div][/div] [div class=info] [div class=post][div class=scroll] Thankfully, the boy with the tattoos - it felt wrong to refer to him as a boy somehow, man? - came to his rescue. As soon as he pelted towards the woods, Kiane was disregarded by the guards and watched as the boy got a mouthful of dirt for his troubles. He seemed, the boy that was, rather pleased with himself as he was dragged back to the group and Kiane was torn between some sembelance of respect and wondering if the boy was quite stupid. Still, he owed him one and made sure to catch his eye, giving him a meaningful nod as if to tell him so. He might've spared him a few words if they hadn't been quickly ushered into to single-file lines to filter into their cabins. Hastily, Kiane retrieved his bag from where it had been abandoned and carefully stepped into the line behind Travaughn, timing his movements perfectly.

As they shuffled forward, Kiane retrieved the joint from his pocket and pressed it into Travaughn's hand in one slick move. The brief moment that his hand brushed against Travaughn's was too subtle to be noticed except by the expert eye and the guards, strong though they were, didn't seem to be the most observant. Strictly, they were divided into two cabins and idly, Kiane wondered if there was some kind of system to it- it seemed that the cabin he got pushed into, Cabin B, was for the troublemakers. Somebody must've forwarded his files from his last institutions- and by somebody, he meant he was sure that it was his mother. Kiane was a good kid at heart but everybody is capable of making fucked up decisions when they're high.

The cabin wasn't inviting- barren, ugly, and with beds pushed against the wall in some attempt to make the room look bigger- but Kiane hadn't exactly been expecting a hotel. It would do, he guessed, for a few weeks and he'd definitely slept in worse places before. He tossed his bag onto one of the top bunks to claim it before looking around to assess the kids he'd be stuck with. No part of him would admit this out loud but he wished he'd been stuck in Cabin A instead; at least most of the kids that had been led over there didn't look like they'd stab their bunkmate in his sleep. Most of the boys here looked tougher, more masculine, but he seemed unintimidated despite his smaller frame and softer features and cool as ever. Kiane heaved himself up onto the top bunk and sat with his legs crossed, instinctively reaching for a cigarette before remembering he didn't have them anymore.

"Bastards..." [/div][/div] [div class=pos][div class="round1 round"][/div] . [div class="round2 round"][/div] . [div class="round3 round"][/div] [div class=stats]mood: neutral | mentions: n/a | interaction: grey + travaughn
location: cabin b | outfit: x [/div][/div][/div][/div] [class=container]height: 340px; width: 500px; padding: 10px; margin: auto; background: #9C94A9 [/class] [class=image]height: 100%; width: 180px; background-image: url(https://booker-storm.s3.amazonaws.com/library/508/20181031_06084694_M.JPG); background-size: 200%; background-position: 55% 30% [/class] [class=title]position: relative; top: 15px; left: 190px; width: 230px; text-transform: uppercase; font-size: 20px; color: #bc4060 [/class] [class=line]height: 1px; width: 100%; background: #5a1527 [/class] [class=lil]position: relative; width: 96%; text-align: right; font-style: italic; font-size: 10px; text-transform: lowercase; letter-spacing: 1px; color: #202020; [/class] [class=b]position: relative; left: 420px; top: -45px; height: 65px; width: 65px; padding: 5px; border-radius: 0px 100px 100px 100px; border: 1px solid #5a1527 [/class] [class=lilimage]height: 100%; width: 100%; border-radius: 0px 100px 100px 100px; background-image: url(https://i.pinimg.com/236x/6e/44/16/6e4416521a4122ad0650d3480c3596bc--character-inspiration-faces.jpg); background-size: 200%; background-position: 60% 55% [/class] [class=info]position: relative; left: 190px; top: -245px; height: 245px; width: 310px [/class] [class=post]height: 200px; width: 103%; font-size: 10px; overflow: hidden [/class] [class=scroll]height: 100%; width: 100%; overflow-y: scroll; text-align: justify; padding-right: 30px [/class] [class=pos]position: relative; top: 15px; height: 35px; width: 305px; text-align: center; color: transparent; overflow: hidden [/class] [class=round]position: relative; display: inline-block; height: 25px; width: 25px; border-radius: 100%; background: #D1565B; transition: 0.7s; [/class] [class=round2]transition: 0.7s; display: inline-block; height: 25px; width: 25px; border-radius: 100%; background: #B9B5CC [/class] [class=round3]transition: 0.7s; display: inline-block; height: 25px; width: 25px; border-radius: 100%; background: #E6AFA8 [/class] [class=bla]background: #f2979f [/class] [class=ble]background: #786a81 [/class] [class=blo]background: #d05f7a [/class] [class=stats]position: relative; top: 10px; width: 100%; margin: auto;font-weight: 800; font-size: 9px; color: white [/class] [script class=post on=mouseenter] addClass bla round1 addClass ble round2 addClass blo round3 [/script] [script class=post on=mouseleave] removeClass bla round1 removeClass ble round2 removeClass blo round3 [/script] [script class=pos on=mouseenter] addClass up round addClass up stats removeClass down round removeClass down2 stats [/script] [script class=pos on=mouseleave] addClass down round addClass down2 stats addClass up round addClass up stats [/script] [class name=up] animation-name: {post_id}up; animation-direction: normal; animation-duration: 0.5s; animation-delay: 0s; animation-timing-function: ease-out; animation-iteration-count: 1; animation-fill-mode: both; [/class] [animation=up] [keyframe=0]top: 0px[/keyframe] [keyframe=100]top: -30px[/keyframe] [/animation] [class name=down] animation-name: {post_id}down; animation-direction: normal; animation-duration: 0.5s; animation-delay: 0s; animation-timing-function: ease-out; animation-iteration-count: 1; animation-fill-mode: both; [/class] [animation=down] [keyframe=0]top: -30px[/keyframe] [keyframe=100]top: 0px[/keyframe] [/animation] [class name=down2] animation-name: {post_id}down2; animation-direction: normal; animation-duration: 0.5s; animation-delay: 0s; animation-timing-function: ease-out; animation-iteration-count: 1; animation-fill-mode: both; [/class] [animation=down2] [keyframe=0]top: -30px[/keyframe] [keyframe=100]top: 10px[/keyframe] [/animation]
 
[div class=container][div class=image] [div class=title]Leo Everett [div class=line][/div] [div class=lil]in cabin b[/div][/div] [div class=b][div class=lilimage][/div][/div][/div] [div class=info] [div class=post][div class=scroll] The bus ride had passed by in the blink of an eye, but even that seemed like an eternity for Leo. He was rudely awoken by the sound of confused and curious teenage boys flittering out of the bus, dragged down to the hell that awaited them all. Leo groaned softly at the brief amount of time he had to sleep, and stretched a little to release the tension beginning to coil in his body like a slow-acting, venomous python. Standing, he joined the queue of boys waiting to exit the bus as a pack of muscular guards greeted them. An older man stood out in the crowd of uniform, stepping forward to introduce himself and the facility.

The fact that Leo had to call him ‘Sir’ made him scoff incredulously, shaking his head at the mere idiocy of it all. However, his position meant the guards hadn’t heard his defiance, and Leo, though he wouldn’t put it past them to install hidden cameras to monitor their every move. All in the name of ‘helping them to recover’, as if everyone wasn't as fucked up as the teens they were trying to fix. There was no magical cure for their behaviour, and to hell if Leo was going to fall for any of their brainwashing. As if controlled by an external presence, his fingers twitched slightly, and with it his mind was once again engulfed by the irresistible flames that whispered sweet promises of destroying everything that grated on his nerves.

The guards seemed to have spotted their target, eyes locked on like a missile ready to fire and Leo almost felt pity for him. The sick amusement that shone in the guards’ eyes spelled nothing good for the other boy, but Leo was reluctant to drag himself into such trouble. Usually, he would have jumped in without a single thought, driven by a blazing desire to defy any authority he suspected of abusing their power, but Leo had to consider his own survival. Helping the boy might earn him a friend, but it might also earn him punishment he wasn’t sure of the specifics yet.

However, the pleasure of helping the boy was snatched away by another, whose black jacket Leo approved of. What followed next was the first escape attempt, and Leo raised a questioning but amused eyebrow, entertained by the sight before him. Despite his belief that the boy would never manage to make it out of here, he couldn’t deny how impressed he was by his courage. It had certainly made an impression on Leo, the image of the tattooed boy sprinting away burned into his mind.

Leo might have stepped forward to speak to the tattooed boy when he was dragged back, but a forceful hand that pushed him towards the cabins disrupted him. He hissed at the guard, jerking away from him making his own way towards the cabins. Majority of the boys were shoved to Cabin A, but Leo was violently shoved towards Cabin B by the same guard, and he shuffled to it unwillingly, unsure of what it spelled for his fate in this camp. No doubt the numerous arrests for arson had something to do with how he was now deemed as a ‘troublemaker’.

The interior of the cabin was as unappealing and subfuscous as the exterior had hinted at, but it wasn’t too far off from how he imagined the cabins to be. Even the menacing, dangerous presence of the other boys had fallen within his expectations. As more boys entered the room, majority of them laying claim to the top bunks, Leo soon found himself with only the bottom bunks open. Majority of the boys were physically bigger than him, their furrowed eyebrows and indignant attitude would piss Leo off more than anything. Yet there was one boy who had managed to pique his interest, and now was a good opportunity to make connections.

“Hey, I’m Leo,” he introduced himself, throwing his back down on the bottom bunk and then looking up at the darker boy. Just like Leo, he didn’t match the rough, violent troubled teen occupying most of the cabin floor. “You lookin for something?” He asked, noticing the way the other boy had reached out for something, but grabbed nothing. [/div][/div] [div class=pos][div class="round1 round"][/div] . [div class="round2 round"][/div] . [div class="round3 round"][/div] [div class=stats]mood: unhappy | mentions: grey | interaction: kiane
location: cabin b [/div][/div][/div][/div] [div class=c] lavendre lavendre [/div] [class=container]height: 340px; width: 500px; padding: 10px; margin: auto; background: #F08080 [/class] [class=image]height: 100%; width: 180px; background-image: url(https://66.media.tumblr.com/64a19d66b3bd220b7a2446c5183f82d9/tumblr_p0pdymQFtp1wix9m9o1_500.png); background-size: 200%; background-position: 55% 30% [/class] [class=title]position: relative; top: 15px; left: 190px; width: 230px; text-transform: uppercase; font-size: 20px; color: #bc4060 [/class] [class=line]height: 1px; width: 100%; background: #5a1527 [/class] [class=lil]position: relative; width: 96%; text-align: right; font-style: italic; font-size: 10px; text-transform: lowercase; letter-spacing: 1px; color: #202020; [/class] [class=b]position: relative; left: 420px; top: -45px; height: 65px; width: 65px; padding: 5px; border-radius: 0px 100px 100px 100px; border: 1px solid #5a1527 [/class] [class=lilimage]height: 100%; width: 100%; border-radius: 0px 100px 100px 100px; background-image: url(https://66.media.tumblr.com/49cd1dfc3e30fb10c18b7ea450043ff2/tumblr_ow8t93PEaM1wuxdw8o1_1280.jpg); background-size: 200%; background-position: 60% 55% [/class] [class=info]position: relative; left: 190px; top: -245px; height: 245px; width: 310px [/class] [class=post]height: 200px; width: 103%; font-size: 10px; overflow: hidden [/class] [class=scroll]height: 100%; width: 100%; overflow-y: scroll; text-align: justify; padding-right: 30px [/class] [class=pos]position: relative; top: 15px; height: 35px; width: 305px; text-align: center; color: transparent; overflow: hidden [/class] [class=round]position: relative; display: inline-block; height: 25px; width: 25px; border-radius: 100%; background: #D1565B; transition: 0.7s; [/class] [class=round2]transition: 0.7s; display: inline-block; height: 25px; width: 25px; border-radius: 100%; background: #B9B5CC [/class] [class=round3]transition: 0.7s; display: inline-block; height: 25px; width: 25px; border-radius: 100%; background: #E6AFA8 [/class] [class=bla]background: #f2979f [/class] [class=ble]background: #786a81 [/class] [class=blo]background: #d05f7a [/class] [class=stats]position: relative; top: 10px; width: 100%; margin: auto;font-weight: 800; font-size: 9px; color: white [/class] [class=c]width: 100%; text-align: center; opacity: 0; font-size: 10px [/class] [script class=post on=mouseenter] addClass bla round1 addClass ble round2 addClass blo round3 [/script] [script class=post on=mouseleave] removeClass bla round1 removeClass ble round2 removeClass blo round3 [/script] [script class=pos on=mouseenter] addClass up round addClass up stats removeClass down round removeClass down2 stats [/script] [script class=pos on=mouseleave] addClass down round addClass down2 stats addClass up round addClass up stats [/script] [class name=up] animation-name: {post_id}up; animation-direction: normal; animation-duration: 0.5s; animation-delay: 0s; animation-timing-function: ease-out; animation-iteration-count: 1; animation-fill-mode: both; [/class] [animation=up] [keyframe=0]top: 0px[/keyframe] [keyframe=100]top: -30px[/keyframe] [/animation] [class name=down] animation-name: {post_id}down; animation-direction: normal; animation-duration: 0.5s; animation-delay: 0s; animation-timing-function: ease-out; animation-iteration-count: 1; animation-fill-mode: both; [/class] [animation=down] [keyframe=0]top: -30px[/keyframe] [keyframe=100]top: 0px[/keyframe] [/animation] [class name=down2] animation-name: {post_id}down2; animation-direction: normal; animation-duration: 0.5s; animation-delay: 0s; animation-timing-function: ease-out; animation-iteration-count: 1; animation-fill-mode: both; [/class] [animation=down2] [keyframe=0]top: -30px[/keyframe] [keyframe=100]top: 10px[/keyframe] [/animation]
 
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