|
|
Post by hound on Nov 18, 2012 22:24:44 GMT -5
"TELL MUMMY I'M SORRY,
THIS LIFE IS A PARTY"
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
[/FONT] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - [/b][/center] He honestly has to say he adores the art of a good party. It was break now, and possibly the best time to be doing it. Makism hadn’t found a reason to head home yet, seeing as it was a long drive and it wouldn’t be holidays for real until the end of the month. No, he’d been drifting from friend to friend, simply hanging out and doing nothing. It wasn’t a bad way of doing things, and the Russian man thought it might be a decent way to travel Europe. Hell, he’d keep that one written down for later.
It was in the apartment of a recent graduate he’d been staying, one that slept until one or two in the morning and left for work at three. Not a bad way of doing things, come to think of it. If Makism actually had to pay for anything on his own he might have considered it as an option. Then again, it was a warehouse job for the postal service, packing trucks. Try the least glamorous job you could think of and subtract any hope of coming out with all your muscles intact. Makism wasn’t the most graceful creature on the planet, and that didn’t help either. Yeah. Work? Not his style.
But it left the young man the bathroom to himself. It was a good, hot scrub and half an hour later that he was in the mirror doing his hair, painting on a thick layer of silvery eyeliner around his bright green eyes. Everything was better with a little bit of sparkle, right? Makism painted his cheek bones, his collar bones, and the exposed portions of his hips with more shimmering silver. It was no big deal to squeeze into a pair of skin tight jeans, slip his shoes on and be out the door.
The party wasn’t far, thankfully within walking distance. Makism wouldn’t have to risk driving himself home too intoxicated to stand… hell, maybe he’d even be lucky enough to find someone to awkwardly wake up with in the morning. There was no telling what the night would hold for him, and that was all part of the fun. It was a spring in his step as he made his way through the cold Canadian suburb, moving quickly so he wouldn’t have to worry about freezing to death.
It wasn’t hard to find the host’s home. It was already thumping with music and lights, something that sent the fire tamer off grinning. Through the front door he slipped, not hesitating before making his way to the kitchen in search of drinks. Bashing his shoulder into that of one of his buddies, the Russian man was handed a small silver tablet—E. Perfect. With a can of diet coke he quickly ingested the pill, not bothering with the booze yet. No, as he felt a certain warmth spread through his system and his feet hit the dance floor, he decided it was time to party, pure and simple.
[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote]
"Talkin'."
[/size] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - [/b] [/center][/FONT] words: 502
tag: Caleb
outfit: clickie!
notes: Yaaaay.
lyrics: opposite of adults by chiddy bang
credit: morganxo@ caution 2.0 [/size] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - [/b][/center][/color] "I'M NEVER GROWING UP!" [/b][/font][/size] |
|
|
|
Post by caleb on Nov 19, 2012 17:47:17 GMT -5
 Winter breaks were hard for Caleb, simply because his parents didn't live in Maple Hollow, and he didn't plan on going back home for the break. He and his family didn't quite get along, and that was fine in his book. He had drugs and liquor, and that was all he needed in his life. These nameless faces at every party, they were all the family he needed. And parties got intense over the holidays. Everyone was always getting trashed, and selling the good drugs. That was the holiday spirit. And that was beautiful in his eyes. It was truly brotherly love the way that people shared at these gatherings, and if he had any good drugs, he'd gladly do the same. Unfortunately, he did not, and that's where everyone else came in. Thank god for that one. Caleb managed to find some whiskey and weed and that was enough for him. He was going to get crunk tonight, and that was going to be fantastic. He was standing on the house's balcony and smoking a nicely rolled blunt, and everything was perfect. Not to glorify drugs, but they always seemed to work for him. Even at his worst, when the fear and delirium and shakes set in, he considered himself to be having a good time. And he really could, because as long as he could talk, he could convince people to do whatever he wanted. He was charming and cute and ever so seductive, and he used it all to his advantage. That's why he came to parties, after all. To manipulate people who were already halfway out of their minds. It wasn't much of a challenge, but it was entertaining, and that was all he cared about. He took a puff of the blunt and coughed. Even a veteran stoner like himself couldn't take it every time. This was rough, and if it wasn't free, Caleb probably wouldn't have dealt with it at all. He washed it down with some whiskey quickly. God he loved whiskey. It was like heaven in a bottle. And since he was going to hell in every religion, this was as close to paradise as he'd ever get. It was a drag out here. No one was out here to socialize. They were out here to make out with their significant others. And he totally got it. Given a little more time, he'd probably do the same thing. But he hadn't had the opportunity yet, and they were harshing his buzz at this point. It was a shame. But he'd manage to live through it. After all, he had weed and liquor. That meant all was right in the world.
[/size][/justify] |
|
|
|
Post by hound on Nov 19, 2012 22:56:47 GMT -5
"TELL MUMMY I'M SORRY,
THIS LIFE IS A PARTY"
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
[/FONT] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - [/b][/center] E was in his system, and it was ready to eat him up. How damn good it felt to be back on the downward spiral. It swallowed him up, started to at least. He was still in control for now, and it was more than grand. Some things were better to hold and some things were better to lose… it was a delicate balance. Makism found himself wrapped up in the idea that he could let his sanity go and hold on to the party boy mystique. Tonight he could have that mystique anyway.
The creature found the dance floor taking him over. Again and again the bass dropped, and it was beautiful. It was more than beautiful. His mind was blissfully blank save for the lights and the music, and Makism could be alive again. There were people grinding up everywhere, a typical high school party, and maybe it made him feel more attractive. Maybe the idea that people were watching the moon pale boy decked in black excited him, made him feel wanted… fleetingly wanted. Lights and music and drugs, a chemical creation… yeah, it was all strikingly fleeting after all.
What was fleeting was the high. His heart pounds and he starts to lose control. Makism feels himself slipping, the E starting to take over. Now is when he makes his leave, when he ducks outside. No one appears to notice, save for the boy that’d been eyeing his ass. That’s alright. He can deal with those more than easily. Just a little bit of a disappearing act and he’s alright again. He needs to be outside. Without drawing too much attention, Makism grabs himself a can of diet Coke and makes his way out to the balcony.
Even this far outside there was still enough bass to shake the windows. It was pretty fucking cool, if Makism had to evaluate it for himself. Yeah, pretty grand. It doesn’t take Makism long to smell the pot—it’s like he’s trained to it by now. Not a true stoner, but a casual smoker, the kid knows the good stuff when it’s there. Besides, he was more than happy to study the source of the scent. There was a young man in his grade that was leaning not far away, sipping and blowing smoke. Lovely.
His bright green eyes are gentle, studying the creature before speaking. The world is spinning slightly, and there’s a glassy quality to Makism’s eyes. He’s out of it, drugged, that’s for sure. It’s okay, he’s okay. He’s more than used to it. The Russian man doesn’t say anything before popping the flip tab on his soda and taking a long drink, though. He needs the caffeine in his system, trying to calm himself down… maybe it’s not the best way of handling it. Whatever. He’ll be fine, right? Yeah. His eyes flick to the man once more, trying in vain to focus… they go to school together. He’s one of the other fire kids… a year up? Yeah. Without anything intelligent to say, the young man simply rakes a hand through his hair and peers over… not quite shy, just high. "Hi Caleb."
[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote]
"Talkin'."
[/size] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - [/b] [/center][/FONT] words: 529-ish
tag: Caleb
outfit: clickie!
notes: Yaaaay.
lyrics: opposite of adults by chiddy bang
credit: morganxo@ caution 2.0 [/size] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - [/b][/center][/color] "I'M NEVER GROWING UP!" [/b][/font][/size] |
|
|
|
Post by caleb on Nov 21, 2012 0:31:31 GMT -5
Reaching the end of his blunt, Caleb extinguished it and drew his pack of cigarettes from his pocket. The only thing that could make a high better was nicotine. Thinning circulation with chemicals meant that drugs could take over more, and that was when the fun began. He put one of his Marlboros between his lips and brought a lighter to meet it. Caleb hated being one of those kids who used their powers to light their cigarettes. He thought that it was tactless and a dumb showing of something that was best to keep under wraps. In most cases, Caleb was as subtle as a sawed-off shotgun, but he didn't ever show his powers unless he had to. Well, at least in most cases. He loved disposable lighters, because he was always losing the permanent ones. Disposable lighters were cheap, wonderful, and didn't matter much when he lost them at parties like this one. This one was white, and almost seemed to glow in the moonlight. It was wonderful. He lit the cigarette and took a long drag. Cigarettes were his passion, and he hated everyone who criticized them. Anyone who judged his lifestyle clearly didn't have much of a life, after all.
A voice stirred him out of his antisocial attitude, and he hazily looked up at the person speaking. This guy knew his name. That was weird, but not uncommon. He was popular after all. Everyone in this scene knew him. He was always getting into trouble. People felt strongly about him, whether they admired, envied, or hated him. He had a strong personality, and he loved that about himself. Now if only he could figure out why this specific guy was talking to him. It was tough to pinpoint, seeing as he didn't think he'd ever seen the guy in his life. Was he just a party kid? Did he go to the academy? Did he just hear about Caleb a minute ago? If so, he must have had drugs. Strangers approaching him usually dealt. But Caleb wasn't looking at the moment. And dealers could usually tell when he wasn't going to buy. So why this guy? From the looks of it, he could have been a twink, and that meant that he could be looking to solicit Caleb for sex. Or that they'd already slept together. He tended to sleep with guys when he was blackout drunk. And that happened more often than Caleb would have liked to admit.
Caleb looked the kid up and down. "Uh, hey. Do I know you?" he asked. It would probably be awkward if they had slept together, but it wasn't the first time that sort of thing occurred. He forgot a lot of people very quickly. He didn't memorize names or faces well. His life was one sort of drunken blur, after all. Not to mention, he tended to get into more trouble when he tried to pretend that he knew people when he didn't remember. That just made him look like more of an asshole than he was, and there was a limit to how much of a dick he'd allow himself to be. He may have been amoral most of the time, but at least he was somewhat mannerly. He was really hoping that this kid was just trying to deal, and that they had no previous encounters, because he wasn't in the mood to remissness with anyone wearing that much body glitter. Caleb just didn't have that in him.
[/size][/justify] |
|
|
|
Post by hound on Nov 22, 2012 17:14:16 GMT -5
"TELL MUMMY I'M SORRY,
THIS LIFE IS A PARTY"
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
[/FONT] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - [/b][/center] Makism holds onto things like names and faces. It really isn’t a big deal, just something that he finds himself in the midst of when there are so many people around. He at least tried to remember the names and the faces for the kids that he lived around, the kids that were supposed to be in leagues with his element. Fire and thunder… no big deal. How many of them could there be? Things like names and dates were something he always had an easy time remembering anyway. It was the things that went with those dates that he had a hard time with. Whatever.
Makism doesn’t sleep around. It’s something that he’d rather not mess with… the true romantic in his heart wanted something adorable and sweet and lasting. A quick fuck? Not his style. If he was getting naked in front of someone, Makism damn well better like them. The Russian man wasn’t uncomfortable with his body… it was just something that was supposed to be—what was the word? Special? If the man was to think about it, it’d be cheesy. It’d be too cheesy for words, but whatever.
It was god politics to get in with the groups of popular kids, and Makism didn’t feel like it was a problem. All the girls wanted a gay best friend, or so it seemed. It wasn’t like he had impeccable fashion sense, but when it came to gossip his ears were always open—filling part of a stereotype. He was friendly and had a kind eye, so who was to fuck with him? The Russian man didn’t want to find out, anyway. No, his eyes are gentle on Caleb’s face, trying to gage a reaction.
The young man finishes off the can of Coke, setting it down by his feet before turning to rest his elbows on the balcony. The lawn is typical for Maple Hollow—well landscaped, groomed to perfection. It wasn’t even clear who lived here, and he didn’t particularly care. A friend of a friend of a friend… no big deal when you had a lot of friends. Makism’s glassy green eyes flicked to the senior once more, a chuckle in his throat. "We had a class together last semester. ‘m Makism." The introduction feels silly and unnecessary on his lips, but it was fine. Everyone was a little bit impaired anyway… the young man doubted anyone would remember much of anything in the morning anyway.
[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote]
"Talkin'."
[/size] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - [/b] [/center][/FONT] words: 412-ish
tag: Caleb
outfit: clickie!
notes: Yaaaay.
lyrics: opposite of adults by chiddy bang
credit: morganxo@ caution 2.0 [/size] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - [/b][/center][/color] "I'M NEVER GROWING UP!" [/b][/font][/size] |
|
|
|
Post by caleb on Nov 24, 2012 13:02:03 GMT -5
So apparently they'd had a class together last semester. No wonder he didn't recognize him. Caleb didn't know how he even managed to pull his grades up enough to make it to twelfth grade. He was smart, sure, but he didn't participate, or even pay attention in class. He was always too busy sleeping or flirting with the people around him. Makism must not have been close by, or Caleb would probably have remembered him. Caleb also took a moment to thank whatever cosmic entity ruled his life that he hadn't slept with this boy, and that this boy wasn't some kid with a grudge against him yet. By the somewhat friendly introduction, Caleb could more or less determine that Makism wasn't water or earth, because otherwise he would have been ignored at best and attacked at worst. That was how academy politics worked, and he loved that. Pugnacity was Caleb's forte. Caleb raised his eyebrows as if trying to place Makism's face one final time, but he ultimately gave up and just decided to take the boy's word that they'd shared a class together. After all, why would he ever lie about something like that? It wouldn't make sense. "Oh," was all he replied at first, just to make it clear that he understood what the boy was saying. The last thing Caleb wanted was to look like he was already blitzed out of his mind. He had a little while to go before that would occur. He didn't know what else to say though. He couldn't really bring himself to care about this boy, or where the kid thought that he knew Caleb from, but he wasn't in the mood to pick a fight or walk away. So he'd stay and be his typical apathetic self, and he'd see what came of it. "Well it's nice to meet you I guess," he finally said, taking another swig of his drink. He didn't care about meeting the kid in all honesty, and the way he spoke kind of made that clear. But that was all part of Caleb's charm. He didn't care most of the time, and when he did, it was something special. And people loved that. He brought his eyes back up to meet the boy's, and noticed that the kid really hadn't taken his eyes off of him since he introduced himself. That was offputting. Did he want something? Was he expecting something? Caleb didn't have anything to offer. He'd play it cool though. Most people would skip the small talk and dive right into the questions when presented with conversation. He was already prepared. No, he didn't know a dealer. No, he wasn't going to go home with the kid. Yes, he knew he was going to die if he kept acting the way he did. That was the point. Those were the usual platitudinous questions that he wished people would just stop asking. He felt that he should probably tattoo the answers onto his forehead or something to save from further wastes of time. "So you go to the academy. What's your power then?" he asked boredly, not even expecting an answer. People tended to interrupt his questions to ask other questions, and that was just how he liked it. Party kids understood each other most of the time, they lived fast, didn't have time for bullshit, and respected one another for the most part. They were like his family, and he loved them to pieces. Not that he'd ever admit it.
[/size][/justify] |
|
|
|
Post by hound on Nov 26, 2012 22:49:07 GMT -5
"TELL MUMMY I'M SORRY,
THIS LIFE IS A PARTY"
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
[/FONT] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - [/b][/center] Makism has a way about him. Well, that or he wishes he did. The young man makes a point of trying to be the one who attracts the most entertaining of people. He feels like he’s magnetic, a bit brilliant, and more than a bit of a nice guy. Hell, he tries. Makism can be underhanded sure, but gentle too. He’s a conundrum, on occasion. Again, Makism tries. There’s a lot of facets to the strange young man, but he’s trying to get on here as best as he god damn can. It’s all he can do, to be perfectly honest.
The Russian man eyes Caleb softly. Apathy, yeah. There was a killer if he’s ever seen one. A daring smirk plays across the young man’s lips, a hand raking backwards through his hair. Inadvertently he’s smudged the glitter, some of it dancing across his cheeks forehead, his shoulders and really everything else that’s exposed sparkles in the light. Makism is shimmering all on his own. "Charmed." He stands with a hip cocked, draining the last of his can of Coke. The creature still hums with energy, honestly he chalks it up to the fact he has E in ins system. It’s a sort of mental addiction, it really is.
The young man asks of his power and Makism just shrugs. It wasn’t like he’d act like it was a big deal—even though it was. The young man had always been pretty sure he was a big deal. Whatever. "I light shit on fire." His green eyes glint in the light, the young man nodding softly to himself. As if a habit, the creature flicks his fingers through his hair. No, this was getting boring. "Wanna go find a little hell to raise?" The young man nods, cocking his hip and turning on his heel to face Caleb.
[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote]
"Talkin'."
[/size] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - [/b] [/center][/FONT] words: 310-ish
tag: Caleb!
outfit: clickie!
notes: Beh, sorry this isn’t the greates.
lyrics: opposite of adults by chiddy bang
credit: morganxo@ caution 2.0 [/size] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - [/b][/center][/color] "I'M NEVER GROWING UP!" [/b][/font][/size] |
|
|
|
Post by caleb on Dec 2, 2012 23:11:50 GMT -5
Caleb shrugged. This kid was far too eager to say things, and it was bothering Caleb. Who the fuck said things like charmed in this day and age? It wasn't the nineteen forties anymore. People weren't decorous with one another. Caleb didn't even know how to respond to that other than a simple "likewise." Caleb would humor the kid's manners for the time being, because it didn't seem like he was from around here, and Caleb didn't care enough to be the one to assimilate the fellow fire's way of doing things. Maybe Caleb was wrong though. Maybe this kid was a fellow partier, and they just ran in different circles. They certainly weren't in the same circle, because anyone wearing that kind of glitter would have been beaten up so fast by Caleb's friends. Caleb, however, didn't judge by appearances. He waited until someone opened their mouth instead before he punched the taste out of it.
Caleb raised an eyebrow at the guy. He lit shit on fire? Really? Was he trying to sound cool? Caleb sighed and rolled his eyes. "Oh," was all he said as he took another drag of his cigarette. Caleb was sure that he could destroy the kid in a fight if they were against each other if Makism was a fire. It meant they'd be even ability-wise. And that meant that Caleb would be relying on his fists, something that Caleb specialized in. This was all just hypothetical though, of course. The kid asked if Caleb wanted to raise hell, and he raised an eyebrow. "What'd you have in mind?" he asked boredly. He didn't like how hard this kid was trying, and how little substance there was between them. This was just bizarre. People didn't usually act this way around Caleb. They were usually too afraid, or just knew better. He was waiting for this Makism kid to correct himself. Hopefully it'd be soon, because he wasn't sure he could take much more of this.
|
|
|
|
Post by hound on Dec 3, 2012 21:28:39 GMT -5
"TELL MUMMY I'M SORRY,
THIS LIFE IS A PARTY"
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
[/FONT] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - [/b][/center] Makism honestly preferred warehouses involving foam and glitter with black lights and bubbles and things of the like. He liked pyrotechnics and all things that happened to go pop and bang. The young man was more than used to the idea that there were going to be people grinding and dancing their hearts out, LSD and E rampant and just… that was what he liked. It happened to be his thing—everyone had one, right? Something they liked above all else? Yeah, that was it. There was something about pounding music and flashing lights that drew him like a moth to flame. This… this was okay. House parties were okay. It was a new scene for Makism.
And maybe he was trying too hard, but it wasn’t likely he’d remember much. Makism occasionally got that way when he was well… trying too hard. There were people he’d always want to win over, and today that happened to be the boy in front of him. He was within the element, he was older, and Makism was honestly taking notice of the fact that he was pretty damn attractive. Makism happened to be easily distracted by pretty, shiny things. It wasn’t like he’d like every pretty shiny thing close up, but for now he was having a good time of himself.
The young man shifted again on his feet, always moving, always changing position. He’s bizarre, sure… he’s a bit high. That’s okay. Soon the young man would just be floating and maybe that would be okay too. Still, there was an idea burning bright in his head, and that was enough to want him to kick into motion. There was always something he needed to be doing… this time it might just be a little destructive. "Got some bottle rockets in the back of my truck." The young man grins softly, raking a hand through his hair. Always shifting, always changing, always on the move, after all.
[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote]
"Talkin'."
[/size] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - [/b] [/center][/FONT] words: 320-ish
tag: Caleb!
outfit: clickie!
notes: Ickyyyy sorry hon.
lyrics: opposite of adults by chiddy bang
credit: morganxo@ caution 2.0 [/size] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - [/b][/center][/color] "I'M NEVER GROWING UP!" [/b][/font][/size] |
|
|
|
Post by caleb on Dec 4, 2012 22:45:46 GMT -5
Caleb wouldn't have been caught dead in the warehouse rave scene. It was too gaudy, and it was too hard to single people out. Sure, there was still a good chance you'd get laid by some toasted-out e-head. But it just wasn't the same. Caleb liked the challenge. He liked to convince drunk girls to sleep with him, because there was a conversation. There was interaction. and he loved that. It was a chase. A competition. And it was that much more satisfying when he succeeded. He just didn't like the idea of just bouncing around to house music with strobes blaring wearing way too much makeup and body glitter. It wouldn't be characteristic of Caleb. Clubbing was as close as he'd get to that, and even then he wasn't on the dance floor for more than a half hour a night. Just enough time to find a girl, and bring her to the bar so he could begin trying to seduce them. Caleb wasn't nearly drunk enough to deal with this boy. He was a try hard. The kind of kid who wanted to impress Caleb for no good reason. Unless the reason was that he wanted to sleep with Caleb, but he was definitely barking up the wrong tree there. Caleb was known to sleep with a guy or two, but they had to be gorgeous and smooth and, well, just like Caleb. His narcissism knew no bounds, but that was fine with him. He loved girls who liked him, and guys who were like him. Because he could understand selfish, shallow boys better than people with emotional depth. Caleb didn't cuddle. He didn't like that mushy, needy shit that other people craved. Things that he was sure Makism would have been into. If Makism knew what was good for him, he would have left right now. But he didn't. And Caleb wasn't going anywhere. Bottle rockets? That was kind of childish. When it came to Caleb's idea of destruction, it was jumping off of a roof, or breaking into buildings. His friend Hunter was getting him into tagging, as well. Things that got your blood going. Things that were worth getting arrested for. Bottle rockets though? They were kind of bland. Unless they were doing property damage to this house, but that would have got the whole party scene under duress. Everyone here would have gotten busted for underage drinking or supplying alcohol to minors, and that was something that Caleb couldn't live with. Caleb sighed. "You're serious, aren't you, dude?" he said with a frown. He was both disappointed and impressed with the boy. No one had lost so much favor with Caleb without being assaulted. The fact that he hadn't punched Makism yet was surely a miracle for the boy.
[/size] |
|
