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( wicked lovely, )

02/21/2019 07:50 PM 

PDS Owes


starters i owe:

replies i owe:

confliced - Stefan Salvatore

starters you owe me:

Psychotic Legend - Katherine Pierce

replies you owe me:

Serene - Josie Saltzman
Paralyzed - Bonnie Bennett


Finn Mikaelson - Morally Grey
Landon Kirby - Claustrophobic


02/21/2019 08:32 PM 

A.C. #1

Sometimes life can get so damn stressful, it can become almost unbearable to deal with. But one thing can always help me.. Closing my eyes, placing headphones in my ears and relaxing. just taking a few minutes for myself, can always help turn a sh*tty day into a better day. As my eyes remained closed, the music going from the classical tones into that song.. our song.. the song that played when i met her.. the song i heard when we found out she was pregnant. It was the song, that every time it played, it was hard not to sing along. And im a sh*tty singer. as the words are sung, and the music is playing, my mind went back to those days. my mind flashed back to that really great f***ing day, sitting in math class, about to blow my brains out, when in walked the most beautiful girl; her long hair cascading down the center of her back.

I will never forget her beautiful doe eyes looking around the room, searching for a place to sit. she looked so nervous, but my heart jolted awake when her eyes fell on the vacant seat next to me. as she held her book bag, she seemed to walk slowly, it was sorta like in movies. Her eyes were the only thing i couldnt stop looking at, and when she reached the table i quickly looked away. I was use to being ignored, it was what happens when your the rich kid. Most ignore you so they don't have to deal with the drama that comes with being friends with the nerdy rich kid. The teacher kept groning on about the course and what was expected of the now ninth graders. Bu my mind was ignoring all the words coming from that guy's mouth. i kept peeking around my shoulder to look at the dazzling beauty beside me. 

Her smile was the only thing i can remember from that class, her beautiful smile. the way her eyes lit up when those teeth were showing. 'Im hunter' her voice rung out, making me feel weaker than normal. But i played it cool, I just kept smirking and making her laugh, and by the end of the class, she gave me her number. That was the best moment of my life, when i could say that i felt so alive. This was the only memory that had no strings attached, and as always i open my eyes and give a little laugh. My stress, the drama everything had ended. Now it was time to get ready for the mayor to walk in and make my life a living hell.


02/21/2019 08:45 PM 

My Bio

Name: Amethyst Redwolf

Age: 22

Species: Weredog (African Wild Dog, Last of her kind)

Scent for mate: Watermelon (Scent for mate on the template means: That is the scent that your mate will smell when they find you.)

Face Claim: Amber Heard

Bio: On a Spring afternoon, a little girl was born. Her parents named her after her grandmother, named Amethyst. Amethyst was a happy little girl as she grew up, learning the ways to be a wolf in her family. At the age of 10, Amethyst's pack was with war with another pack. Her family fought back with their pack only for the pack house to be caught on fire. Ten-year-old Amethyst was captured and used as a slave in the other pack. She continued to grow and be a slave for the pack. When Amethyst did something wrong or when the Alpha was mad, she got punished by whips to the back and locked up in the basement with no food or water for a certain amount of days.

At the age of 16, Amethyst had her first shift in the basement of the pack’s house. The pain was excruciating to her with the bruises and cuts on her body. Once the shift was over, she looked around to find something to see herself but couldn’t. Amethyst could imagine that she looked like her father’s wolf. After that, her punishments got worse with each day. When she reached the age of 18, Amethyst had knocked over something of the Alphas which resulted in a punishment. As Amethyst stood in front of the Alpha, he grabbed a glove from his pocket before gripping a cloth that was dipped into liquidized wolfsbane. Amethyst shook as the Alpha wrapped it around her eyes, causing her to scream in pain.

The cloth was left on her eyes for 5 days as she was thrown in the basement. Soon the Alpha removed it and saw the burn marks on her face, not knowing that she was now unable to see. Once the Alpha left, the theta came in and helped her to heal the burns from the wolfsbane but sadly couldn’t help her sight even though her eyes looked normal after his help but she couldn’t see. When she turned 20, the Theta of the pack had helped her escaped late in the night, telling her to follow the scent of a city and be there or try to find a pack that would take her.

Now at the age of 22, Amethyst uses her other senses that were now heighten from losing her sight. She was a rogue but she would never show any signs of aggression or that she would hurt any pack. Luckily, she hadn’t run into other wolves as she stayed in the city and worked for a fruit stand. 

𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐢́

02/21/2019 07:54 PM 


We all hate these and I hate typing them up. I will keep them as quick and simple as possible.

Disclaimer: I am not Holland Roden nor do I have an affiliation with her or anything/anyone in Teen Wolf.

Writing Style: Para to novella. Give me something to respond to. NO ONE LINERS.

Controlling: Do not control my character unless already discussed.

Messages: OOC only

Comments: Roleplay only.

Real Life: I am over 21, I have a family, I work full time. I will not be on all of the time. I will try to get to you as soon as I can. Do not pester me for a response or I will NOT reply back to you.

This is it. See told you short and simple.

«Mʀ. Sᴇlf Đᴇstruct»

02/21/2019 07:36 PM 


Amber fluid sloshed lazily back and forth inside the glass container holding it, a few long fingers loosely attached to the neck of the bottle and moving it to and fro. The motion was slightly mesmerizing. Eyelids grew weighted, slowly curtained their wards of a molten gold hue. It was an exceptionally warm evening for the U.K. in winter and the sun managed to break through years of grime and cobwebs of the tavern windows to give the interior a hazy orange glow. Dust particles waltzed in slow motion through these persistent beams, stirred from their resting places by even the merest movement or breath from the individual at one of the many tables.

He opened his eyes again and after a poor attempt at focusing on the label of his vice, gave up and raised his head from an outstretched arm where it had been resting. There, now at least the assortment of letters weren't both blurry and sideways. His lips were dry even as he licked them, and this caused him to bring the whiskey near again for another swig. It burned its way down his throat in a pleasant way and gained a husky hum of approval from the blond's vocal chords. He wasn't aware of how long he had been sitting here. Didn't care. Time was meaningless to a man who aged as slowly as he did.

But the bottle in his hand was getting ever closer to becoming empty. Like him, he thought idly. A pistol lay on the table close by and he took in its visage for maybe the hundredth time, and that was only counting today. It was a morbid and yet alluring fantasy of his; to pick up that gun and slide the barrel into his mouth, to taste metal and gun oil on his tongue as his finger inched towards the trigger and finally found it. Slowly squeezed it as he aimed up through his cranium. Shuddering as the piece of lead rocketed through his soft and vulnerable brain and blew it out to form a gruesome rain onto his surroundings.

He shut his eyes again and actually smiled a fraction, then reached for the gun and staggered to his feet with inebriation. But he didn't put the firearm to his own head. Instead he had someone else to unleash this indescribable turbulence inside him on. The door was closed and when he opened it a sliver of light fell upon the sparse contents of the room. A wooden chair, a low table with a clustering of various tools on it. The sliver widened and finally fell upon a naked human form.

Male; it lay spreadeagled on a mattress made only of springs, several layers of bloodstained newspaper beneath it. Wrists and ankles were lashed to the iron bed frame at each corner. At first glance one might think the form was nothing more than a corpse, but upon further inspection the body’s torso was rhythmically rising and falling in what could be recognized as unconsciousness. Chance was pleasantly surprised he had lasted this long, considering the terrible ordeal the male was being put through.

Where dark pubic hair should have been was shaven and smooth until reaching where his penis and testes should be; but instead there was a crudely carved hole fashioned to look like a poorly done sex-change. The fake vulva lips were flaps of flesh sewn together on each side with a gaping wound in between. Red, angrily weeping sores littered his toned body where places had been either lit on fire and blisters exploded or several layers of skin had been sliced down to the muscle and left open for the half a dozen maggots actively crawling around on them. The stench of putrid meat perfumed the room and hit the blond like a physical wave as he pushed open the door even more.

"Zaaaaach," Chance intoned sweetly as if he were greeting his wife, but the form still didn't stir. He shut the door behind him after walking in and made his way to the old bed he had stripped down for this purpose. As if he had any sympathy, he slurped on one pointer finger to get it slick and then pushed it into the false vagina he had created in the young man, who came awake with a pitiful shriek. "That's better. You've been resting long enough, I think. We don't want your new p u s s y to heal over, now do we?" The lad had messy dark hair and just started whimpering like a beaten dog as he didn't even try to struggle when Chance lay down the gun and started undressing.

Before long, the sound of protesting bed springs echoed through the building from the little room, along with what could only be described as weeping noises of pain and protests from the young man as Chance made sickly sweet love to him. Purposely taking his time to increase the agony, physically and mentally, as he caressed and kissed at the other male's face like a tender lover would.

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