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Post by Emily Amelia Lynn on Nov 24, 2012 2:35:35 GMT -6
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; background-color: #343434; padding:20px; border-top: 10px #af9390 solid; border-bottom: 10px #af9390 solid;] repair your broken wings ( WORDS ) 447 ( TAGGED ) OPEN ( OUTFIT ) HERE Emily smiled as she wrapped the towel around her body after getting out of the shower. She was planning on going out tonight to drink and have fun. She slipped on her underwear and bra before putting on her black and white cut up flag shirt. She then pulled her jeans up, making sure the cut pieces of her shirt didn’t get stuck in it. She sat on her bed and pulled on her heels before moving into the bathroom again. She had let the mirror unsteam from the hot shower that she had just taken and began putting on her make up.
She checked herself in the mirror one more time before making sure her wavy hair was correctly in place and then made her way out to the bar. She lived right near town and made her way to the bar quickly. She showed her ID that showed that she was well over the age of twenty one. Well really she was forever twenty two, but she had been dead for about four years so really she’d be twenty six. She was happy in a way that she was forever young, but yet at the same time she hated it.
She smiled as she saw some people singing karaoke and drinking at the same time. They had the right thing going. She had gone home right after work to get ready to come here. She was rather tired, but wanted to make herself feel better and to pick herself up so she figured a few drinks would do. She had been rather busy at work, and had to get use to piercing bodies that would forever stay young, and sometimes young kids wanted piercings and it was just weird for her compared to normal. Today she had done a few dermal piercings on a fourteen year old. Fourteen! She would never be allowed to do that back when she was alive because it was illegal, but here it was completely fine.
She walked over to the bar before smiling at the bartender and ordering a beer. She took a drink and turned around to listen to the karaoke before hearing someone talk behind her. She knew it was rude to eavesdrop but she was curious. She heard someone mention that drinks for the women were half priced on Friday. She knew that she’d have to come back Friday and possibly bring a few friends so that she could have some fun. She turned around and smiled at the two that were talking before finally adding into the conversation. “I guess I’ll be coming back here the on Friday. I’ll probably bring a few friends too.”
December 11th; 9PM |
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Post by julian on Nov 25, 2012 3:10:27 GMT -6
[newclass=test]border: 10px solid #96CDCD; width: 450px; background-color: #F0FFFF; padding: 40px 5px 40px 5px;[/newclass] [classy=test] [style=position: relative; top: 120px; right: 100px; width: 200px; background-color: #96CDCD; font-family: arial; text-transform: uppercase; line-height: 60%; text-align: center; padding: 10px 10px 10px 10px; color: #F0FFFF;]i am here
i am i am i am [/style]
Julian rolled his eyes as one of his drinking companions made the remark about drinks being free for women on Fridays. He barely glanced up as the two people who had been talking turned to admit another woman into the conversation. It was all background noise to Julian now. He couldn't remember when he'd started drinking today, but he knew he must have been there for some time since the bartenders had traded shifts.
It was probably sad and unhealthy that he was still here and still trying to fill a hole with alcohol, but he couldn't give two shits how pathetic he looked on this particular occasion. It was December 11th, his older sister's birthday. When he was alive they'd always spent his sister Colette's birthday at Disneyland. Even when she was twenty, she still wanted to go to Disneyland, and it was the one time of year when she really let go and indulged herself. How old would she be now? She wasn't fifty yet. She had to be forty-eight. Forty-eight!
“I guess I’ll be coming back here the on Friday. I’ll probably bring a few friends too.”
The voice was familiar. Julian rolled his head over in his arms to see the face that the voice belonged to. Oh. Her. What was her name again? She was the one who'd pierced Julian's ears for him. She was a sweet girl. She'd made the whole ordeal quick and painless. He'd have to buy her a drink for that, even if she probably didn't remember him.
The last time Julian had been to Disneyland, Colette had been turning twenty. She wasn't even old enough to drink back then. Now she had kids who were older than Julian had been when he'd died. He knew that she didn't go to Disneyland on her birthday any more because he'd sent her a friend request on facebook. Of course he hadn't used his real name. He'd created a fake profile and said they'd known each other in high school. He mentioned things that she'd mentioned about her high school when Julian was alive, and she was convinced that she'd simply forgotten him like so many of the old high school friends who were seeing her out after all of those years. Her status said that she was enjoying a nice family dinner with her husband and the kids at home.
He'd liked that status update and had nearly written "No Disneyland this year? I'm disappointed in you. Happy Birthday, Cole!" on her wall, before remembering that he was the only one who had ever called her Cole and that he had no idea whether she had continued to go to Disneyland in any of the years after his death. So, he amended his greeting to a more generic "Happy Birthday, Colette!"
And, then he'd cried for an hour. That was all he allowed himself. He wasn't going to turn into a giant pussy just because his big sister was getting old and living a life that he couldn't be a part of. He missed her. It was physically painful at times. Colette's oldest son looked like exactly Julian's dead brother. Colette's youngest daughter was a dancer. He'd looked at those pictures of Colette and her husband from Thanksgiving and been blown away by how old his parents looked. It made him sick to see how they'd all aged. It filled him with panic. It filled him with envy.
They'd scattered Julian's ashes into the ocean with his grandmother. Everyone else had moved on and gotten over Julian after his death... but he'd never been able to bury them. Before facebook and the internet had given Julian easy access to old wounds, the past was easier to ignore, but it had never been possible to completely push it all from his mind. That's why, on days like this, he drank himself into as close as he could get to death. The alcoholic stupor wasn't completely satisfying even when he drank what might have killed him before his death. For some reason his 'dead' body seemed to metabolize alcohol at an irritatingly efficient rate. It was just one of those quirks about Julian's death. Everyone had them, but no one knew exactly where they came from.
Julian had a friend who said that if you died during sexual intercourse you'd have a permanent hard-on in New Haven. Julian didn't believe it, but it was one of those amusing thoughts that kept him distracted and entertained in those long quiet hours between dusk and dawn.
The whole room was spinning from what seemed to be his millionth shot, but he could feel his clarity returning already. He didn't want to think about the tab he'd be running up. He couldn't think about it or he'd probably disintegrate into an alcoholic puddle of misery. He needed to get his mind off of things. Obviously drinking wasn't helping a whole lot. Time to try conversation.
"Hey, Emily." Julian said, pulling his face off of the counter and forcing his best smile. "You probably don't remember me... you did my ears." He pointed weakly at his ears which were fitted with the new plugs he'd purchased for the purpose of making himself feel better. And to hammer the last nails into his coffin of debt, he added, "Come sit here. Your drinks are on me." Because, at that moment it didn't really matter whether he would have to use his credit card to buy everything, he needed someone to talk to.
outfit hurr tag any words 923 [/classy] |
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Post by Emily Amelia Lynn on Nov 28, 2012 0:36:39 GMT -6
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; background-color: #343434; padding:20px; border-top: 10px #af9390 solid; border-bottom: 10px #af9390 solid;] repair your broken wings ( WORDS ) 491 ( TAGGED ) OPEN ( OUTFIT ) HERE Emily smiled as the guy that had stated the statement about the drinks continued talking to her. She knew that he was probably hoping to get lucky. She couldn’t expect anything more, but she still had to get use to what looked like eighteen and nineteen year olds drinking. It was also weird to be piercing many younger kids just because they had been dead so long. Although she had been dead for four years, it wasn’t something normal for her to expect to walk into the stores and see a bunch of younger looking kids waiting to be pierced or even get tattoos. She was actually planning on asking Stryker or Kyler if they could add more to her sleeve to make it go up her bicep now.
Currently she only had the tattoo of roses along her side, and of course her childhood sleeve that was on her forearm. She had some scripture on her upper bicep and was hoping to make a sleeve around it. She also had the little tattoos on her fingers and knuckle. She was thinking of getting a bow on another one of her fingers and then more to add onto her sleeve to make it a full sleeve finally. She was also thinking of adding to the roses on her side but wasn’t sure what to add to it. Although she did love Kyler’s art she did want to see what Stryker could do. She knew that it would also be a wonderful training session for Kyler and Stryker since she wasn’t paying and he wouldn’t have to worry about fucking up a tattoo on a customer.
Emily’s attention was snapped away from the one that was talking to the other that said her name, she hadn’t told them her name yet so this was interesting. She was sure that she met him someone as he looked familiar. She smiled when he mentioned that he got a piercing from her. She could vaguely remember it, but of course, with so many piercings daily it was rather difficult to remember them all. Gauges were a new big thing and she had been doing them more often than not and they were rather fun to explain to people because people wanted the large sizes now instead of having to wait. She smiled when she saw new plugs in it, meaning that his ears were hopefully healed since the last time he went up a size, and hopefully he hadn’t upped it too much since she first started him off on stretching his ears.
“What size are you up to now?” she asked before moving over to sit next to him. “You really don’t need to buy all my drinks though, I do have a job as you know” she said before laughing a little. “Been thinking about any new piercings or tattoos?” she asked before crossing her legs and taking another drink from her beer.
December 11th; 9PM |
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Post by julian on Nov 28, 2012 20:42:11 GMT -6
[newclass=test]border: 10px solid #96CDCD; width: 450px; background-color: #F0FFFF; padding: 40px 5px 40px 5px;[/newclass] [classy=test] [style=position: relative; top: 120px; right: 100px; width: 200px; background-color: #96CDCD; font-family: arial; text-transform: uppercase; line-height: 60%; text-align: center; padding: 10px 10px 10px 10px; color: #F0FFFF;]i am here
i am i am i am [/style]
“What size are you up to now?”
"I'm only up to six... but, I'm not sure if I want to go beyond that." Julian said, twisting one if his plugs absent mindedly. "What size is the point of no return, anyway?"
Point of no return. Now that was a statement. He had gone past the point of no return the night that he had decided to audition for Les Mis. Getting the part was the end. He hadn't known it at the time, but it was. It had felt like just the beginning. He'd believed that there was an entire life ahead of him. Where was his threescore and ten? It wasn't fair. But, nothing was fair in life. That was one of the first life lessons that the world pounded into you. Life is unfair.
Life was beautiful too. He'd seen god in his own blood, sweat, and tears. He'd danced until he'd nearly died. He'd seen dancers work themselves into a state of dangerous exhaustion, but all willingly. It was all voluntary torture. It felt like human sacrifice. It hurt. Maybe it was the result of all of the painkillers he'd taken in the end, but he thought he danced one foot in heaven in those last days. He was dancing after rehearsal, not even on the stage but in the green room. Everybody was getting out of costume, but he lingered behind, dressed as a young dandy.
He was very much alone. Blissfully so. His eyes had been half closed. He'd been singing... not even notes or words, but entire lifetimes of feeling in a rhapsody of pain and pleasure. He'd had an out of body experience. It was as if he'd been transported to a sort of... beyond state. He was looking down on his body from above, suspended in the air. He watched his body pivoting and spinning below like a toy ballerina inside of a music box. He heard his voice as if it were coming from someone else.
He thought he felt the hand of god on the top of his head. He'd looked up--- or rather his body had looked up at him. And, he'd looked down into his own face, and smiled. And, his face was smiling back at him. For a moment, for just the briefest instant, body and mind had been in complete equilibrium. It was beautiful. He saw that life could be beautiful for him. That maybe his life was really worth living. He felt at peace with the world. Unafraid.
Then, not two weeks later, he was murdered.
He was jolted from his thoughts by his companion's next question. Emily was smiling at him, sweetly, prettily. He blinked stupidly, in a daze. It felt like he'd been pulled directly out of a dream, or maybe he was dreaming. Nothing felt real any more.
“Been thinking about any new piercings or tattoos?”
"Yes, actually." He hadn't, not until then. It had come to him in a flash: what better way to honour his sister than to print her name on his body? Maybe he'd get his brother's name too. He hadn't seen _______ around since he'd come to New Haven. _______'s death had been reported in the obits, however, and Julian had it on good intelligence that his brother was in a bad state when he'd died. So maybe he was avoiding Julian. It made sense. ______ had never been the type to admit his own mistakes. Yes. He'd get both of their names. Then, when he finally saw his brother, _______ would see that Julian really did miss him, no matter what happened before he died. Sure, Julian thought that he was really stupid and selfish for what he'd done, but death was, in a way, like rebirth the way Julian saw it. Like waking up with the slate wiped clean. Maybe _______ realized that, and maybe he didn't consider Julian--- his brother from his 'before' life--- to be his brother in New Haven. Whatever happened, Julian would still love him.
"How much would it be to get two names done?" Julian said, after downing another shot for bravery. He'd never physically marked himself in this way. It would be an adventure.
He'd been marked before. He'd been beaten. He'd been cut. He'd been burned. He'd been burned until his skin came off in black strips and his insides melted like tallow. And, in a flash, he was back there again. Faces. Familiar, yet threatening. Their laughs. The hatred he felt, the fear he felt at their hatred. He wanted them dead, but they were going to kill him. Even as he attempted to escape, some like mad animal. He was cornered, and he knew it then that he was going to die. He was afraid. It was an animal fear, and his screams were primal. They were angry.
And then, he was back in the bar again. Squeezing the shot glass in his hand so it was near to breaking, his vision was bathed in a purple light. He exhaled slowly, loosening his grip on the glass. It was like being a combat veteran. He felt so powerless, plunged into the world of the past. Pitted against enemies he couldn't fight. He couldn't even strike. He wanted them dead. Why did they get to live on, and grow up, and raise families, and get jobs, and grow old. It wasn't right. What did they do to deserve living?
He couldn't think about them without feeling sick. His therapist said he needed to find a way to forgive them and just move on with his life. He'd been meaning to see a new therapist. He drained another shot. He would feel better if he was getting inked by someone he knew. "Could you ink me?"
outfit hurr tag any words 961 [/classy] |
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Post by Emily Amelia Lynn on Dec 1, 2012 22:27:37 GMT -6
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; background-color: #343434; padding:20px; border-top: 10px #af9390 solid; border-bottom: 10px #af9390 solid;] repair your broken wings ( WORDS ) 440 ( TAGGED ) OPEN ( OUTFIT ) HERE Emily smiled and nodded when he said that he was only up to six and probably wasn’t going higher. She couldn’t blame him, depending on how he stretched them from now on could permanently damage it, and he’d have to get it surgically fixed. “Depending on the person, zero, or double zero, but I don’t recommend going higher than two if you don’t want to risk it” she said before smiling. She knew that the point of no return was a thing that a lot of people wanted to know. They didn’t want to deal with it, but of course some did it regardless wanting to see how big they could possibly get their gauges.
She didn’t particularly like bigger gauges either, but it wasn’t like she had her ears gauged so she wouldn’t have to worry about it. Let alone if people didn’t keep their gauges clean after a while they began to smell like rotting flesh which was horrible. If you cleaned them twice a day like people should, and how she advised people to, then they wouldn’t smell and they’d be bearable.
She smiled when he said that he was planning on getting more. She knew that he’d go to Street Waves too because she worked there, and he had a good time last time. Emily smiled when he asked about two name. “I don’t normally recommend getting names because they’re permanent and all, but it depends on size and who you have doing it. Kyler or his apprentice Stryker could do it easily, but depending on which one is free, and how big, and possibly even the location depends on it all really.” she said before shrugging. She wasn’t sure exactly on their prices since she didn’t really have anything to do with doing the tattoos, and Kyler or Stryker would normally cash them out. She could schedule them appointments though after they had a consultation with the artist.
Emily saw him grasping onto the shot glass tightly before she took another drink and bit her lip. She hoped that nothing was wrong, and that everything would be fine, but she knew how things could be. Especially if you were nervous about something. “I’m sorry, I can’t. I’m not licensed to tattoo, and even then I’d have to apprentice to get my full license…. Kyler already has an apprentice so I wouldn’t be able to even try until he agrees and until Stryker is done” she said softly. “But if I know when it is, I can make sure I don’t have a piercing appointment then and sit with you?” she offered smiling.
December 11th; 9PM; sorry it sucks! |
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