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02/07/2025 03:33 PM
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Taeko′s Malevolent Curse (Mature Content)
Current mood:
devious
 (Taeko goes on a murderous rampage at the expense of her unlucky human hosts, using these doomed young women as nothing more than a vehicle to inflict maximum carnage upon not only themselves, but also other innocent men and women who have the misfortune of being at the wrong place at the wrong time! This is kind of a mix between the Asian horror movies Carved and Suicide Club.) Taeko Matsuzaki was an abusive young woman who treated her poor children horribly, yet she also had serious mental and physical issues which clearly affected her better judgment. On the one hand she dearly loved kids and wanted to raise a happy family, yet on the other hand something deep inside drove her to lash out at not only innocent children, but also people in general as well. This unfortunate illness was something she could never control, until finally one day Taeko asked her only surviving son to kill her, but he missed her neck with the sharp blade and instead cut her mouth apart, giving Taeko the disfigured appearance that many people commented on much later, after she returned from the dead. Fortunately that very same son ended up stabbing her after she tried to murder him in cold blood, thus resulting in this greatly troubled woman′s life finally coming to an end. 30 years later and now Taeko is a vengeful ghost who possesses other women, often forcing them to kidnap children to bring back to an old house, where they are kept inside the basement, awaiting either disfigurement or death. But what she is most well known for is appearing from seemingly out of nowhere, and asking her victims one simple question.... am I pretty? Depending on the answer their young lives may or may not be spared. However, on certain occasions she prefers to just walk quietly through the countryside or around town, enjoying those all too rare moments of peace and serenity, while always wearing a dark brown trench coat, and white mask over her hideous looking face, which was far from unusual because many people in Japan also wore them, in order to either protect themselves against getting sick, or prevent others around them from falling ill, due to the colds which they themselves already had to begin with. Yet this was not the entire story however, because today Taeko was feeling truly adventurous in a very twisted sort of way, and since she could easily find another human to possess, in the event of something bad happening to her present female host, the psychotic yurei decided to finally have some fun at the expense of various women, just to see what might happen before all was said and done! Her current host was then forced to step right in front of an oncoming bullet train, resulting in the girl′s body literally exploding as gore and blood sprayed everywhere, much to the horrified expressions of others who had been waiting for another train to soon stop and pick them up! What few body parts remained were strewn across the tracks as the train continued speeding on through, and since Taeko had enjoyed this so much, while also definitely getting her sick thrills along the way, the next girl she possessed would suffer an equally terrible fate as well, by being forced to jump from the top of a five story building! Against her will the human sadly jumped to her immediate death, as seemingly countless bones were easily broken after she made violent contact with the extremely hard, undeniably unforgiving concrete, which also splattered her brains and other body parts all over the place, just for good measure! Taeko′s next victim would perish in a terrible car wreck, after being forced to drive over one hundred miles an hour against traffic, until the speeding vehicle came to an abrupt stop, crashing into several other cars which quickly killed more than a few people at once, while also causing nearby vehicles to explode after catching on fire! Those highly vulnerable men, women, and children who were not killed instantly would tragically scream for help, before being burned alive as the horrifying scene only became worse, because Taeko had indeed timed everything perfectly, due to it being not only foggy, but also cloudy and overcast as well, resulting in dozens of cars and trucks piling up one behind the other, until finally everything was over after many lives had been so tragically lost, all because of this sick and depraved slit mouth woman’s desire for human carnage! There were millions of female hosts for her to choose from in Tokyo alone, which meant Taeko would be able to play these evil games quite often, and also without regard to the safety of the women she ended up possessing. No doubt she would eventually go back to using more traditional methods of haunting these defenseless humans, all of whom were destined to suffer by either being cursed and driven insane, or killed outright by those wickedly sharp scissors, but at least now Taeko knew she could always return to causing far more destructive methods of carnage, whenever the murderous urge became too much for her to either ignore or resist any longer!
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02/06/2025 08:08 PM
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Interview at E.M.M - Get to know Angelo
The Narrative behind the pose.
~Think of this as a 10 - 15 minute video where Angelo is being interviewed just as a means to introduce himself as a model~ Anya: “Hello everyone my name is Anya Kechter, I am the Lead Stylist here at Elite Model Management and today on NBP we have our newest addition, Angelo Matthews!!” Angelo: “H-hi everyone” Anya: “He says everyone and it’s literally us in the room” Angelo: -Laughs; “I-I don’t know” Anya: “You’re so funny okay so Angelo – this is interview can be super informal so…” Angelo: “Can I cuss?” Anya: “F*** yeah” ~Both Laugh Angelo: “Should have started with that, holy f***!” -Laughs; Anya: “Literally! So first things first, can you introduce yourself and give us a few tid-bits about you?” Angelo: “Umm s-sure…ehem, My name is Angelo Kenneth Matthews, I’m 27…..I love to cook and have an unhealthy obsession with buying cookbooks, I have an amazing boyfriend named Nick –“ Anya: “Jonas…lets be real, your boyfriend is Nick F***ING Jonas” Angela: -Laughs; “Yes, my amazing boyfriend is Nick Jonas, I have a little brother named Jonathan, my best friend Krista is the sister I always wanted, and umm….I can play the piano” Anya: “Beautiful! I didn’t know you play, you maybe we should do a shoot with you and a piano, make it artsy and all that” Angelo: “That would be fun!” Anya: “Speaking of fun, your kid brother Jonjon? Hes absolutely adorable! You brought him to the City Light’s shoot, which was your first like real campagin shoot…what does your brother think of all this?” Angelo: “Umm he’s enjoying it – its exciting, thankfully we have not been mobbed or anything, kind of wanna keep it that way."
Anya: "I bet - so you got hired when you came in to do the Valentines day shoot and you and Nick obviously amazing chemistry, but you were a natural in front of the camera.."
Angelo: "Well at first I didn’t know you all were snapping pictures....until maybe 80% of the way through? Granted I am oblivious"
Anya: "Also I do wanna point out, youre a bit of an enigma with your look cause your blue eyes are striking, but I’ve noticed that with your hair long and youve got scruff, you have a fine wine older air to you...but when your hair is cut and youre clean shaven you look so much younger...has anyone said that?"
Angelo: "Umm my bestfriend Krista has, so does Jonjon...."
Anya: "Oh no its great cause during the Valentines day shoot, you were clean cut, and all that but I think even if your hair was a touch longer and you had the scruff it wouldve worked just as good"
Angelo: "I guess I looked good?"
Anya: "Oh for f***ing sakes Angelo you were smoldering sir, and then the suits I mean, surprised Nick didn’t just..."
Angelo: "Well......"
*~Anya screams covering her face, as Angelo flushes red trying to damage control.
Anya: "Moving on! You little minx! So you’ve never done model but you have this air about you, like you can command a room?"
Angelo: "Ahh...I..would have to say thats from my previous job....as a Host at Velvet Rose...Umm, you had to kind of carry yourself in a way where you were someone’s walking fantasy, you needed to be able to reel someone in with just your eyes"
Anya: "Velvet Rose....now I dont mean any offense to this but...I heard that place shut down, but through the grape vine it was....a place where it was If you Know you know"
Angelo: "Yeah....its...definitely one of those hush hush places..."
Angelo took in a breath his hands shaking a little. Anya looked at him with a warm smile.
Anya: "Youve told me what goes on....we’ve gotten closer since I am your stylist and I want you to know that you did everything you could for your brother, for you - to keep you two a float, its a sacrifice not many can understand..."
Angelo took a tissue and wiped his eyes clearing his throat.
Angelo: "It was alot...a decade really of my life spent there kind of grinning and bearing it, putting on this facade...it was such bullsh*t to be honest....but never went down without a fight" he said with a laugh.
Anya smiled, "Good on you! I know its not something you’d out right share but I love how candid and transparent you’re being about working there and open to talk about what you went through."
Angelo nodded, "Its my past and either I let people find out about it on their own or I own it and speak my truth, I don’t want that to f***ing hold power over me or anyone in my circle, Ill be damned, this is the hill Im dying on...so, to me if someone asks I’ll tell them, because why hide a chunk of my life, to me it...just feels like I’m not being truly me if that makes sense"
Anya: "Oh absolutely! Say it louder for the people in the back, but I appreciate how raw you are about it and being able to come out of that into your new glamourous life as a model! I bet its a huge shift."
Angelo: "I am scared sh*tless hahaha not going to lie, its definitely a shift, because after being in my small bubble for so long, to now be out and co-mingling with outs in the lime light...its crazy, like the City Lights shoot I met Harry Styles, like mind blow, like its people like that who ill be seeing at events and what not, its crazy"
Anya: "Yes and like I told you, gotta mingle, its the way of the beast, gotta network and all that - Im sure Nick told you"
Angelo: "Yeah he did...but im still scared out of my mind"
Anya: "In time, it takes time...okay so in fear of this already being relatively long, let me ask you some rapid fire questions okay..."
Angelo rubbed his hands together and sat up in his seat, "Fire away"
Anya: "Favorite color?"
Angelo: "Blue."
Anya: "Favorite thing to cook?"
Angelo: "Ahh f***...umm Lemon Chicken Orzo and Funnel Cake!"
Anya: "Sh*t that sounds bomb okay...Favorite memory?"
Angelo: "Skii ball with Nick on our first date."
Anya: "F***ing cute. Favorite movie?"
Angelo: "Umm Clue from 1985"
Anya: "Wait really?"
Angelo: "Im a nerd give me the benefit of the doubt Anya!"
Anya laughs: "Can you explain this picture?"

Angelo gasped and covered his face as Anya laughed. He slowly sunk into his seat.
Angelo: "I didn’t know they snapped that!!!"
Anya: "Hand on hip....hahahaha!! Like a teapot. Oh my gosh youre Mr. Pots! Thank you for joining us today on behind the pose, sorry if this was a little long but hope you got a chance to get to know our Hand on Hip model, Angelo Kenneth Matthews, see you next time!"
Angelo is still curled into a ball out of sheer embarrassment laughing himself silly.
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02/06/2025 08:54 PM
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Buffalo amongst the rats.
/CONTENT WARNING; RACISM. IF THE TOPIC OFFENDS, EVER SO KINDLY - BUGGER OFF disclaimer; This is complete work of fiction with low intention in keeping a ’as close to reality’ record as possible. Some things (the switch of cat A through D should probably be the most obvious inconsistency you’ll notice). Some differences are explained. Some are simply how they have always been in the world of these writings. everything is in a draft free writting form. Past events, order of events may undergo constant adjustments.
Donald Bowker was escorted through a number of gates and through a yard. Additional gates and fences sectioned the open area. Don entertained the mental image of the sectioned continents in a map. How utterly astonished he’d become and then how hard it had been for him to grasp as a school boy that as many people as Mrs.Makers claimed lived could fit in such a small piece of land. The difference here was that here the proportions were really that small.
Finally they reached block D. It was announced with a big D fixed high over the entrance of it. As if needed some important reminding. It was like walking into a black void. "Warden’s new idea, mate" his escorting officer commented, flicking on a handheld flashlight. "Try not to trip will you?" Don’s built was massive. Like a fort. People really liked pointing that out with funny little remarks so he got the jist: if you trip, don’t fall on me.
Within the building as they walked the halls faces like phantoms would sporadically materialise (helped by the single beam of light) out of the thick darkness and press into the bars to measure him with curious eyes. A particularly gaunt one Don had reactively glanced back at scared him so much that a gasp escaped him before he could stop it. The brow bone was so pronounced as to shade the eyes under into complete darkness. The mouth was missing all teeth but three. Giving the face a hollow cavernous appearance like a floating mask of...a dead man. He made a conscious effort to keep his eyes on the guard’s back for the rest of it.
They got up a flight of stairs on his left, then through a hard plastic sheeted bridge connecting the top floor of east and west wing and to the right. The sheet of hard plastic went up to the wall, Don pressumed so prisoners wouldn’t push each other over. He had been correct. Not much further off the guard came to a halt. He took out a ring of keys. Gave it a jangle. A shifting of shoes answered from within. Officer Mark started looking for the right key corresponded for its lock.
Don saw the two wide palms sticking out of the bars on on very right. That was presumably some kind of safe measure. Unless this was one of the Warders ideas. Keep prisoners cuffed on the bars? Sleeping standing up. Keep them always tired, that should tackle any pent up energy put into stiring up sh*t.Even so it would explain how many faces on his way here had turned out of the darkness like ghosts of the damned to face him. "Comon!" A voice coming from the dark hissed impatiently. It went ignored. The officer, light wedged under his chin and aimed on the ridiculously overburdened set of keys, took his sweet time. "Comon!" The hiss pressed on.
The prisoner chained on his gate must’ve pulled a limb from his socket in order to get close to the light from where he was cuffed. Don was greeted by yet another face, the last one for the night. A face of a man in around his thirties, with a face dominated by two madly huge green eyes stretched open and bulging over a grin of equal nature and intensity appeared low and close to the beam of light from the guards flashlight. About a midgets height. They flicked with an irregular rapidness spotted Don and rested there blazing with energy. Yet at the same time they were frighteningly devoid of intelligence. Similarly if Don had looked into a mirror and seen not his reflection, he saw no reflection of thought in those eyes that would betray of the impression he had imposed on this man.
He was being directly stared at although Don would guess he wasnt actually seeing anything since the light was angled right on his own face bellow the keys. Like the blind of the headlights which causes an animal to freeze in the middle of the road and look at the approaching vehicle but at the same time unable to see more of any other approach other than the lights. So that must’ve been it; If he could see nothing, he had no way to form an impression.
It had been a couple seconds ofcource. Officer Mark said "sssst!" and the face gone in a nanosecond ("Comon comon comon" the hissing came again). It had been enough for Don to study the imprint the face had burned in his mental eye. The flared breadth of the nostril. A slightly blended nose. Prominent cheekbone. Negroid lips. Wide head. Weak jaw, he thought - a light bulb. Bulging forehead. And was it smooth? Light had reflected off it. He thought that yes, he hadn’t seen any worry lines on the reflection. He wasn’t sure which of these pointed to a likely hispanic. It might have been all these things or it might have easily been his assessment must be wrong just the same. And, jolted by the sudden thrust of the key into the hole, he wasn’t damn sure why the hell it had mattered to his brain at all what mixture of blood was pumped in the guy’s veins. That had never been anything of matter to him. More to say, never been a factor on which he relied in judging a character. Yet he could feel some type of relief with the likely possibility that he might have been right. Because though it didn’t matter to him, unfortunately it had mattered plenty for others.
"In you go" the officer says in a thick English accent.
"Oy matey" the other occupier in the cell says, in a thick Australian miss. "Get a move on will ya. Wrong bloody house ya f***in cunt, bellfast’s that way." He pointed inaccurately a middle finger upwards. His restrains jiggled. Donald Bowker felt an impatient shove on his back. It pulled him out of the struggle of his memory and he took his step inside. His cellmate looked familiar or, more accurately so, not his face but the hoarse sound of his voice. He was sure he’d heard...oh but what was the point in raking his brain in such matter.
The door slammed shut behind him. A very cold sound. Don jolted. It had been so quiet. And the darkness was total. he hadn’t expected it.
His bed on the left side against the wall was illuminated briefly by the officer. "There"
He went hearing more chain rattles as the other was getting uncuffed, feeling carefully his way for the wall then followed it to the bed. He sat carefully, concious of his weight. The other hit the hay with a muffled thud on it. Don leaned carefully to a lying down position, wincing as he heard the frame’s little protests.
"I want to face the wall when I sleep. Can I trust you f***in savage won’t ravage my ass if I turn my back?"
"You can be damn certain" Don replied, hardening his jaw at the number of insulting implications that came with the question.
"We are in block D gitit. Stay vigilant." The voice said through a yawn. Don couldn’t tell if his assurance had indeed been enough. He couldn’t see. It didn’t sound much as though it had. A gap of silence dominated then the voice added. "Saw how big that D was did you?"
Don got what the other man was on about. He did not wish to respond. This would encourage a conversation. Something about speaking with a faceless voice felt in some vague way disturbing.
"Know what that means here ? No it doesn’t mean d*ck. It’s D, dig? Dumpster king. The one and only, great and unholy, me! I’m so good..." He trailed off. "Oh sh*t he’s f***in good. Can you even believe this? The Dumpster king, in person..."
Don remained silent, hearing the man trail off and pick up. He realised the "King" was fabricating the conversation the way he would like of it to have gone down as. Eventually he got tired of it. At last Don was rewarded with relative quiet. The other fidgeted in his bed for a good while then finally stopped and snoring filled the room. At first he thought with gratitude it was the dumpster king. But then there was a shifting accompanying along side the other. There was another in here. How many were there, he wondered in the darkness. He felt suddenly exposed and in danger. The king of trash continued rustling by the tossing about, grinding his teeth, scratching his skin and mumbling profanities.
Don had nothing else to distract his mind with so he began considering this struggle. He had been exhausted but now in the dark, possibility of catching that sleep suddenly seemed impossible. He felt fully rested. He wished it wasn’t the case. It occurred to him with a terrifying feeling of alarm, as a picture of aggravated red scratch marks decorating white legs for some reason flashed in his mental view, if he might too become tormented by an idle body, fed up of resting. But also fed up with the thinking. He felt a grip of panic. His heart responded, picking up. Every night turned into an eternity. Minuites going by like hours. Hours stretching on. Endlessly undefined like this darkness. And then it all faded down. Sudden and powerful. A defeated accept took its place. The bed creaked with his massive wait. Faces rushes at him as if they had hidden among bushes waiting for the perfect moment. The moment he closed his eyes in hopes of some adjust against this nothingness. The memories charged in such vivid detail it felt like a self inflicted act of punishment.
I will not allow it, he screamed at their twisting and saddened faces. You hear me? I won’t allow myself. Thats all I have left from you, I will not allow it.
"Shut up shut up shut up, shut up. Stop breathing. Shut the hell up" the whisperer.
Don’s attention was brought to the shakiness in his breathing. His body was seized by trembling. Unaware to the point it had began he had given into quiet sobs. Everything steadied once he was made aware of it. Stillness made the cold manifest. Darkness was so great. Brought about no difference if he kept his eyes open or closed. All there was here where groans, stink, an occasional ruckus from some noisy cell and the ever present rustling from the bed on the other side of the cell.
His nose was attacked by the burned smells of car tires rubbing against the asphalt. He was back at school. The school he had attended as an adolescent. Sat on the smoothed out concrete rows. Strangely they were not ahead and to the left as they had been but immediately to the right of the school gates. Junior was there, clung on him. Yet he could sense all the eagerness of the child. Impatient to uncling with his dad’s permition and run into the building. It had to be some event. Junior was dressed immaculately with a suit. The boy looked to be only six or seven again.
"Go June" He told him. The kid ran the schoolyard and dissapeared into the building. Don waited and waited. Kids, all of them too young to be attending this school began to file out. It was night. Junior never came out.
He’d come back looking for Junior the next day. Standing among a radius of rubble there was a different building. It’s face was missing. The inside was a cavernous heap of more additional destruction. Don had to step over jutting pieces of wood, bricks and blown out chunks of smoothed out concrete to get inside the building.
"A renovation sir" one of the two workers inside the now ruined entrance of the school replied when he was asked what had happened here. They had a ladder up among the rubble. He was wearing a yellow hat. He had a face of unfocused features. Nothing that stands out. It was dark and they’d set up some lights casting an orange hue, reminiscent of the local fishmarket alley which Don walked through on his way back from work once upon a time. It was a tunneled over alley, a place that later he associated with this kind of light.
"Ain’t you happened to have seen a small boy here, sir?" He asked. He said it without urgency without panic. Like looking for a cat. "I’m afraid he disappeared last night and I’m looking for him."
The other didn’t have to provide the answer. It was already spoken on his bewildered face. Now behind the man’s shoulder and a little ahead a steel railing was upright on the ground. Junior came up it from bellow the rubble. He was covered in white dust. His expression was vacant. And it remained vacant when Don wrapped the boy up and carried him home. "What happened my son" He asked, giving his arms a shake with the boy in it to elicit some reaction. "What happened?". But Junior would not speak.
Noise floated gradually into his ears. At first it had been a rather soothing drone of voices. Which however began to rise in fluctuating bursts of intensity, to seperate into various pitches of voices, turning this one disembodied murmur that was happening away from him somewhere into a whole crowd, presently right there with him. Into his room where he slept.
There was a strong sense of disorientation when he oppened his eyes and did not see the familiar sights or relative darkness of the drawn shades which were the beginning of every slip into his waking days in his own bedroom. But instead an alien gray sheet of wall. For a minuite he’d been at home.
He blinked a few times, adjusting to the sting of the bright lights and sat up, trying to abate the terrible state of worry by telling himself it had only been a dream. The emotion stayed for a few hours anyway. Sometimes gone but it kept returning tormenting his brain like a nag that he was missing something. Only he didn’t know what.
His bladder protested. But he could see no toilet in sight. Only a the lid of one fixed on the wall at some height. But the toilet was missing. In its place there was a hastily cement filed up hole in the ground.
"Slop bucket" the third occupier of this cell said when Don wondered about that. As if it explained to the least why there was only a lid stuck to the wall. "Under your bed. Better take your sh*ts in the morning homes before we dump them because if I have to smell this all night I’m going to wear that bucket on your head. When it’s dark." He smiled at his book and added. "If it fits."
Don observed the man’s profile during his comment. He was on what he could tell a fourty year old, pittifully pale with a gaunt crease curving from bellow his cheekbones. He had black hair oiled back and small eyes set kindof deep under the brows.
The third one, hunched into a ball against the left corner and hugging his knees was rocking back and forth. Whispering to himself feverishly. Don could only distinguish the scattered "comon" and "shutups" among that.
And the book was placed face down next to himself before Steve swang straight on his bed facing Don smilingly. "Jesus christ, you must’ve torn that p**sy right up to the navel man" he exclaimed.
Don stared at him blankly. He took no measure in concealing his dislike for that comment.
"I mean your mothers" He explained. Don’s lack of amusement must’ve made the man nervous. He put his palms placadly as if apologizing for his crudense. "Hey no problem man, its a compliment if anything."
"Shut up Steve, shut up just shut up"
Don indicated with a head jerk to the man rocking in his corner. "What is up with him."
Steve responded a similar head point and fly of the eyebrows as if asking, who him? Don surmised a certain quality of mock in the mirrored gesture. Nevertheless he nodded. "Oh, just f***ing nuts." Steve said. "Out of his mind. Comes and goes. Pure fancy. No pattern. Hell man, it still keeps me on edge here. The dumpster killer. Well that’s him, if you were curious. Guy should be thrown into an asylum for the insane. Kind of glad you’re here"
Don’s curiosity was engaged so he asked why. At the question he thought he picked up a dark memory flashing on his eyes, something that had frightened the individual to the core. It was gone the second it appeared and Steve shrugged. "You’re a big fella that’s why."
Don bent down. Indeed a sad, caved bucket, with a crack down until it’s middle was waiting under the bed for him. He relieved his bladder but held on to the rest, clinging to the dignity of a man that had been free only a week ago for as long as he could stretch it. He was informed just in case that if he felt like stinking the air he’d have to place the bucket under that lonely lid on the wall and then sit on the lid. "If you don’t break it." Was added. Don took a definite pass testing out the prisoncell fashioned crapper.
On his first day Don wondered the yard aimlessly for hours on end. Food hadn’t held up to the grossness prison food was fame for so he’d eaten well of it. Despite the earlier warnings Steve and the so called Dumpster Killer rubbed together it seemed. Don wondered how much of it was out of genuine wish on Steve’s end and how much of it was due to the kind of respect and submition brought on by fear. Regardless. There seemed to be no signs of the earlier man rocking in the corner. The killer, whose name he picked up as Warren, jumped from group to group striking jeers and laughs. Rising noise which would abate as soon as Warren left them alone. Don couldn’t help (having nothing else to do but ponder in memory made painful now by the beloved faces which were now worm food) but observe this person with curiosity. He certainly showed up everywhere as it was, even if someone had tried to ignore him.
He had to be hispanic although not all together. Now it was unmistakable when he registered the shade of darkened skin of his lids. Even though the rest of him must’ve fallen into paleness, the lids themselves as well as the circles under his eyes indicative of an insomniac, those maintained an orange hint of this skin type.
He had a vibrant, entertaining (albeit shortlived) enough effect on the other inmates. He had an air about him. It was hard to put a finger around what exactly but it was almost childish. People patted the killer’s shoulders and his back, always during a delivery of a good joke. At one point he was sent stumbling with it. To which he leaped up, simply dusted his knees and joined another fella on a walk as he was passed by. Don didn’t miss the jerkiness and unpredictability that characterized every movement. That complimenting the wider presence that was much like the very twitchingness of his body similarly neurotic in nature. Physically there was nothing imposing. Behaviorally there was nothing imposing, just exhausting to have around he reckoned. In fact the opposite in both. He appeared like a skittish thing, in constant readiness to flee should a twig snap nearby.
It remained however, the momentary glimpse of fear he’d seen on Steve’s face. That had been genuine.
It occurred to him he was studying another human as if observing a wild animal in its inhabitat so, soon, Don feeling as though he would not have liked to be observed himself in that manner, decided to drop it. Better stay out of it. He went back aimlessly wondering the yard space. Acutely haunted by the nightmare he had among the real doublehorror there was also the horror which had landed him here.
Helplessness, he finally realised. The dream, that dream, gave him more powerfully than any other feeling, a sense of helplessness. He had paused on his steps. His eyes on his shoes.
The Rat, as he so delighted to be called besides his proffessional title of Dumpster Killer, was sat down not far from him up against a fence. His eyes had been unabashedly staring at this tower of a man for some time. Coon police had been another one of his many names. As secretely as Don had previously studied the same, this much had Warren in measure of blatancy. Yet Don had been oblivious despite the oppeness Warren had operated with, lost in his mind. Warren had developed quite an awareness. When the skin on his back tickled him, he always stole a glance around. It had been the case this time. And everytime he saw the black man avert his eyes from him.
The murderer rose up from his squat down position and began on approach. By the time he had approached Bowker, his face preserved not a trace of his true feeling. He smiled brightly. "Old pal!"
Don looked up. He was slightly startled seeing his cellmate suddenly standing there addressing him. And then alarm came. Nothing reflected on his face but the thought which rushed in was; had he been noted earlier? And had his curiosity been received as with some evil intent? Don gave him a greeting smile.
Warren smiled back. Then with a wink he drew near and assumed a just-shooting-the-sh*t casual drifting of the eyes when he began to talk. Sweeping the yard. "You’re a big f***, I’ll give you that. But I gotta tell you something though. I’ll make an exception for you and that’s real advice combining from the gutters. Ready dumdum? Cause I made it out of there with just a scratch"
Don doubted the true validity of that. Specifically he was neglecting one small fact. They were both serving prison time. That’s more than a scratch. Nevertheless he nodded and Warren continued. "When he senses a tickle of suspicion, a-a-a...a plan! A scheme! They want to getim! D’ya think he show any sign of recognizing nothing?" He sniffed, a contemptuous, irritable response. The volume dropped even more. " If they know he knows something, see they’ll find out what he knows. Dig? They plan better the plan before a strike. He knows a surprise is coming. They think, and HAH how funny I’m laughing- that he knows nothing. But he quick. Quicker if all of em put together."
Don was struck by how badly the killer stank. Absolutely stank. Like sweat, like acid, like something wet-like, like a wet bed, like, like...like fear, he realised. It hurt him slightly. He knew people feared and distrusted him so. It turns out even a serial killer felt threatened merely because of the body he possessed. He also realised that yes indeed his earlier manner had been noticed and he felt a little ashamed of himself. He knew who that not very cryptic "he" was.
Don turned his eyes away from the D on the building and although he wished to speak at eye contact so he could be sure he’d show that he meant it. He had also the idea that by doing so and having to look down on the shorter prisoner it might be perceived as a bigger threat. So he gazed down at the buttons of his shirt first before lifting it slightly on the manic stare before him.
"I don’t mean no trouble." He said. "I don’t want more trouble, I’ve-"
A finger jabbed him on the belly. He tensed reflexively which caused his muscles to stiffen. No words had accompanied this move. The finger, as if calculating the ridgidness tried to bore deeper, failed and drew back.
"Not bad" Warren said walking away.
After turning this encounter in his head Don felt quite ashamed of how he’d handled it. Was there a more diplomatic way though he could’ve taken without increasing this assumed animosity? Should he, actually, cling on to his civilized manners? This dire need to prove a man should not be so quickly judged by the body and the skin he’s had no choise of say in occupying. But for his actions, man. His work, his contribution, his self-discipline, his generosity. Or by the lack of those.
But who was there left to prove himself to. They who might’ve accepted him as a human, dead. Both of them, and he was deemed a wife killer.
He was thought of as a killer. Right. Someone capable of not only killing his own wife but, most importantly in their eyes, the white daughter of an astounding family that had never trully approved the marriage if it wasn’t for his wife’s insistance. Even if he Don managed by some miracle attaining his rightful innocent; even then. Who would trully be there to take joy in it for him.
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02/05/2025 08:37 PM
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lalala
She was sixteen when her mom gifted her a check to get a nose job. A Rite of Passage, she called it, while picking at her own flaws in the mirror. Wyn had her father’s nose. It was the first time she and her mother saw eye to eye, and probably the last.
“I’ve seen the news, by the way.” If he wasn’t going to address the neon pink elephant in the room, she would. “I’d like to think I know you well enough for it not to matter.” Partially true, since Shane had changed quite a bit. Then again, so had she. There was a history there that had to count for something though, right? Wyn knew he wasn’t perfect and loved him anyway. Even now. Even in secret.
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02/05/2025 07:22 PM
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Guidelines
my name is Luciana Alvarez.and I will protect those who can’t protect themselves. These are my rules or guidelines if you will. If anyone ends up breaking these, I will block you. I am not a bitch unless I have to be. I am a very kind and nice person. 1). Stories are 9% and 1% smut. If it is in a storyline and discussed ahead of time then it fine. While smut is fine, it will not be the center of our story. There has to be more to it. 2). I only write in a group forums. I will not RP in messages. I reserve that for ooc/plotting. All stories go in a group forum. 3). No one liners or semi-para writers. Para and above only. 4). No rushing me I will reply when I can. If I am not on I am busy or charging my phone. 5). Spelling mistakes are fine, but if I can’t understand you, then I will ask you to rewrite it so I can understand it. 6). Luciana is a multi-ship and will only ship with people who are serious and will not leave her. 7). I am highly selective. I will only keep people who want to write and will write with her in a group forum. 8). I will be writing in the Third-person-past-tense-point-of -view. 9). I reserve the right to delete people who don’t talk. I give everyone until the 4th of each month to talk to me after I have sent a greeting to them. If you don’t talk or at least have the common deciency to tell me your busy and will get to me if your busy, then I will block you on the 4th of the month. I am not a friend collector. Mutes.lurkers will be blocked.
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02/05/2025 12:31 PM
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HELP
Current mood:
confused
I don’t remember how I got here, and I don’t remember much of what happened when I got here... But I guess all I can do now is try my best to remember? Maybe I can ask others for help. If you have any leads, please do not hesitate to let me know!
Thanks, -Ava Harper
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Lost, Confused, Help, HARPER, Alone
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02/04/2025 06:24 PM
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edits
*. i like to keep all of my edits as little treasures on a blog , bite me.
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02/04/2025 03:10 PM
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Unknown Caller
 A loud buzzing sound startled Cece awake. Her phone was vibrating on the table next to the couch. Reaching over she picked up her phone to see it was an unknown caller. Quickly she hit silent and then looked at the time. She had about a half an hour before she had to go back on set. Her call time was six that morning and when she was done with her first grouping of scenes she went to her trailer to take a little nap. Once again her phone rang, unknown caller displayed again. "Hello?" she said deciding to answer instead of having them call again and disturb her nap. "Sissy?" the voice on the other end was one she hadn’t heard in about two years. "Livy?" She asked now sitting up trying to force herself to wake up. "Yeah, it’s me. How are you?" Olivia managed to sound cheerful and fake all at the same time. "I’m fine, ahhh why are you calling?" The last time they spoke Olivia made it pretty clear she sided with her Mother and wouldn’t be speaking to her again. "I just found a photo album of pictures of when we were little and it got me thinking about how much I missed you." Cece said nothing, this was just so out of the ordinary. "Anyway, I was wondering if maybe we could get lunch or something and talk? You know maybe, try and work things out between us." Cece was cautious but she agreed to the venture. "Maybe I can give you a call in about a week or so and we can set something up? I’m filming all week, so I won’t have time for lunches until then." Livy was quiet for a moment. "That sounds good. Unless you are free this weekend?" Cece thought for a moment. "No, I have a Birthday party to go to this weekend." Cece stood up and looked in the mirror to make sure she hadn’t messed her make up while she slept or the makeup lady would yell at her. "Yeah, yeah I heard about the party. Lots of A listers there and stuff. You know, if you wanted someone to go with you, I would be down for that." Before she could reply she heard an all too familiar voice in the background. "Don’t let her say no, this will help your career." Then there was the sound like someone trying to cover up the phone for a moment. "Cece, you still there." A bit of panic in Livy’s voice. "Actually I have to go, I’m due back on set." She was trying hard to control her anger. "Livy, next time. Maybe don’t have mom trying to coach you. If you want a career you are going to have to earn it. I’m not here to get you connections. Especially after not hearing from you in two years. I’m not sure what kind of game you and mom are trying to play, but I’m not interested." Cece hung up the phone and shook her head in disbelief. She knew right from the start that Olivia wanted something. A few people had told her that Olivia was making the rounds and having no success. Maybe Cece was just being petty but after all her and their mother put her through she couldn’t help but think they were getting a bit of karma.
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02/04/2025 12:53 PM
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Bio
my name is Luciana Alvarez.and I will protect those who can’t protect themselves. This is where you can learn all about my character. Her Background, her stats, her quirks, her current life and more. Please read it all before coming to me to plot. ───────────────────────────────────────────
Basic Stats: Full Name: Luciana Alvarez Pronunciation: Luciana: ˌluːsiˈɑːnə Alvarez: ˈælvəˌrɛz Name Meaning:
Luciana: Derived from the Latin name "Lucius," which means "light" or "illumination." Luciana symbolizes clarity, enlightenment, and guidance.
Alvarez: A Spanish surname derived from the given name "Alvaro," meaning "guardian" or "protector." It signifies strength, vigilance, and a sense of responsibility.
*** Good Nicknames:
Lucy: A sweet and familiar nickname that radiates warmth and friendliness. It might have been used by her friends and family to show affection and a sense of closeness.
Lulu: A playful and energetic name, perfect for light-hearted moments. Given by those who appreciate her bubbly and spirited nature.
Ana: Emphasizing her elegance and grace. Used by those who admire her classic beauty and poise.
Liana: Celebrating her uniqueness and flowing personality. Chosen by people who appreciate the exotic and lyrical sound of her name.
Lu: A short and loving term used for casual, intimate moments. Often used by close friends and family members who wanted a simple yet affectionate way to address her.
Luci: A trendy and modern twist, showing appreciation for her lively nature. Preferred by her peers who see her as contemporary and vivacious.
Luz: Reflecting the light and positivity she brings into people’s lives. Might be used by Spanish-speaking friends or those who appreciate its meaning.
Nia: Highlighting her creative and individualistic spirit. Chosen by those who see her as unique and artistic.
Sweetie: A term of endearment that shows how much her owners cherished her.
Angel: Expressing how her owners saw her as a special and precious part of their lives.
Sunshine: Reflecting the warmth and happiness she brought into her owners’ lives.
*** Bad Nicknames:
Bossy Lu: Used when she was being particularly assertive or trying to take control of a situation, often in a teasing manner.
Princess: Employed in a light-hearted manner when she was being a bit demanding, but could come across as slightly demeaning.
Moody Lucy: Teasing her during more emotional or difficult times, highlighting her moodiness.
Chatterbox: Used when she was talking a lot or dominating conversations, possibly making her feel self-conscious about her talkativeness.
Scatterbrain: A gentle tease when she was being forgetful or disorganized, but could be seen as critical.
Tracker: Used by mean hunters who only valued her for her tracking skills, reducing her to a mere tool.
Hunter’s Tool: A harsh nickname emphasizing her utility rather than her individuality, used by mean hunters.
Beast: A derogatory term focusing on her strength and utility, ignoring her humanity.
Scout: Highlighting her role in scouting without any personal connection, used by mean hunters.
Brute: A demeaning name that reduces her to a strong but emotionless being, used by mean hunters.
Machine: Treating her as if she were emotionless and only there to serve their needs, used by mean hunters.
Sniffer: A nickname that belittles her abilities, reducing her to just one function, used by mean hunters.
Fetch: Using her name as a command, stripping away any respect or care, used by mean hunters. Ethnicity: Latina: Luciana is of Latina descent, which influences her strong sense of family, community, and cultural heritage. Her background provides her with unique perspectives and a deep appreciation for diverse traditions and experiences. Age: 35 years old (Born on February 14, 1990)
Occupation:
Survivor & Escapee: Survived and escaped from the Ortega Clan, where she was held captive and forced to use her werewolf abilities for their gain.
Supernatural Detective: Specializes in cases involving supernatural occurrences and threats in Beacon Hills, California.
Protector: Uses her skills and strength to safeguard those who cannot defend themselves from supernatural threats within the supernatural community. ─────────────────────────────────────────── Appearance:
Human Form: Luciana Alvarez stands at 5’5" (167 cm) and weighs 120 lbs (54 kg). She possesses a slender and toned build, combining an athletic yet graceful frame. Her dark brown hair is long and straight, often worn loose or in a practical ponytail. Her warm, olive complexion reflects her Latina heritage, adding to her natural beauty. Luciana’s eyes are a deep brown, which turn piercing and intense blue in her werewolf form. A mysterious tattoo runs down her left forearm, symbolizing her past enslavement. Her facial features are marked by high cheekbones, a defined jawline, and a friendly but determined expression. As a Latina, Luciana’s strong sense of family, community, and cultural heritage influences her deeply, providing her with unique perspectives and a deep appreciation for diverse traditions and experiences. Wolf form: In her wolf form, Luciana transforms into a large, imposing black wolf with midnight black fur that blends seamlessly with the darkness of the night. Her piercing blue eyes remain, providing a striking contrast against her dark fur. Her wolf form is muscular and powerful, yet retains a sense of grace and agility. She moves with a fluid, almost ghost-like grace that allows her to navigate challenging terrains effortlessly. Luciana’s fur is sleek and glossy, providing her with natural camouflage in the shadows. Her keen senses are even more heightened in this form, allowing her to detect even the faintest of sounds and scents. Her sharp claws and fangs make her a formidable opponent in combat. Bipedal form: In her bipedal form, Luciana stands on two legs and combines her human and wolf features. Her midnight black fur covers her body, and her piercing blue eyes flash with intensity when her instincts take over. Her facial features become more lupine, with a slightly elongated snout and sharp, predatory eyes. This form retains her athletic and toned build, but with added strength and power. Her muscles are more pronounced, and she stands taller and more imposing than in her human form. Luciana’s hands and feet transform into powerful claws, capable of inflicting serious damage. Her enhanced senses remain sharp, allowing her to detect threats and track targets with ease. In this form, she gains increased strength, speed, and agility, making her a formidable force in combat. Style: Practical and functional clothing that allows for mobility, often favoring dark colors and casual chic. Occasionally accessories with subtle jewelry that has personal significance.
────────────────────────────────────────── Personality: Determined: Her past has instilled a relentless drive to seek justice for the oppressed and avenge those wronged by society. Loyal: She values the bonds she forms with her colleagues and friends, standing fiercely by their side in times of need. Strategic: Always thinking several steps ahead, Luciana is a master tactician who uses her keen intellect to outsmart her adversaries. Guarded: Though capable of forming deep connections, she remains wary of trusting others fully due to her traumatic past and her time as a hunter. Skills: Enhanced Senses: Heightened sense of smell, hearing, and sight, allowing her to detect even the faintest clues. Combat Proficiency: Skilled in hand-to-hand combat and proficient with a variety of weapons. Analytical Mind: Exceptional problem-solving abilities and an eye for detail that make her an outstanding detective. Survival Instincts: Experience in the wild has made her adept at tracking, hunting, and navigating challenging terrains. Special Ability: Transformation: Can shift between human and werewolf forms at will, gaining increased strength, speed, and agility in her wolf form. The transformation is more controlled and less painful than for most werewolves, thanks to her years of practice and discipline. Immortality: Luciana does not age beyond her current appearance and is immune to natural causes of death. However, she can still be killed through supernatural means. Motivation: Driven by a desire to ensure no one else suffers the way she did and to atone for her past actions, Luciana uses her unique abilities to bring justice to those who cannot fight for themselves. Her journey from enslavement to empowerment, and from predator to protector, fuels her relentless pursuit of the truth. Past Locations:
Rural Village in Mexico: Luciana’s birthplace and childhood home, where she lived with her close-knit family and local community until she was kidnapped.
Ortega Clan’s Hideout: The location where she was held captive and forced to use her werewolf abilities for the hunters’ gain. This period was marked by violence and exploitation.
Wilderness Refuge: The remote area where Luciana found refuge after escaping from the Ortega Clan, where she nursed her wounds and regained her strength. Current Location: Beacon Hills, California: Luciana’s current residence and workplace. She lives in a modest apartment near the center of town and works as a detective, using her unique abilities to solve mysterious occurrences and supernatural activity in the area. ───────────────────────────────────────────
Relationships: Malia Hale: A werecoyote from Teen Wolf who found Luciana during her time in isolation and helped her regain control over her transformations. Malia’s mentorship and support have been crucial in Luciana’s journey toward self-acceptance and reintegration into society. Scott McCall: The True Alpha werewolf and leader of the pack in Beacon Hills. Luciana has a strong professional relationship with Scott, often collaborating on cases and supernatural threats. Lydia Martin: A banshee with extraordinary abilities. Lydia and Luciana share a deep bond, with Lydia often providing valuable insights and assistance in their investigations. Stiles Stilinski: A human with a sharp mind and resourcefulness. Stiles and Luciana have a close friendship, with Stiles frequently assisting her in solving complex cases.
Noah Stilinski: The sheriff of Beacon Hills and Stiles Stilinski’s father. Luciana has a deep respect for Noah’s dedication to his job and his unwavering commitment to protecting the town. Their professional relationship is built on mutual trust and admiration. Noah appreciates Luciana’s unique abilities and keen investigative skills, often relying on her insights to solve complex cases. Over time, their relationship has grown into a strong alliance, with Noah considering Luciana an invaluable asset to his team.
Jordan Parrish: A deputy in the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department with supernatural abilities as a Hellhound. Luciana and Jordan share a strong camaraderie, often working together on cases involving supernatural elements. They have a mutual understanding of the challenges that come with their unique abilities and provide support for each other in times of need. Jordan respects Luciana’s determination and tactical mind, while Luciana values Jordan’s strength and loyalty. Their partnership is marked by trust and a shared goal of protecting Beacon Hills from supernatural threats. Derek Hale: A powerful werewolf and Malia’s cousin. Derek respects Luciana’s abilities and determination, and they often work together to protect Beacon Hills from supernatural threats. Liam Dunbar: A young werewolf and member of Scott’s pack. Luciana sees potential in Liam and takes on a mentorship role, helping him navigate the challenges of being a werewolf. Eliot Monroe: Luciana’s closest friend and trusted partner in the detective agency. Eliot is a human with exceptional technical skills, often aiding Luciana with his expertise in cyber forensics. Luna Hart: A fellow werewolf and mentor figure who helped Luciana gain control over her transformations. Luna’s wisdom and guidance have been invaluable in Luciana’s journey toward self-acceptance. Detective Marcus Reed: A seasoned detective in the same precinct who initially mistrusted Luciana but grew to respect her abilities and dedication. Their professional relationship is marked by mutual admiration and occasional rivalry. Vivian Stone: A supernatural being with her own dark past, Vivian serves as an informant for Luciana. Despite their complex relationship, they share a mutual understanding of the struggles that come with living between worlds. Council of Elders: A secretive group of supernatural beings who oversee the balance between human and supernatural realms. Luciana often finds herself at odds with the Council’s decisions but maintains a cautious alliance with them. Ortega Clan: The ruthless group of supernatural hunters who kidnapped Luciana and exploited her abilities for their own gain. Some members of the Ortega Clan are still alive, and Luciana is determined to bring them to justice. The Argents: A family of skilled and experienced supernatural hunters. While Luciana’s relationship with the Argents is complex due to their history of hunting werewolves, she occasionally collaborates with them when their goals align. Over time, she has earned a level of mutual respect with some members, such as Allison Argent and Chris Argent. ───────────────────────────────────────────
Biography of Luciana Alvarez: Birth: Born on February 19, 2003, in a small rural village in Mexico. Though she appears 22 years old, Luciana is immortal and does not age beyond this point. Her family was poor but close-knit, and they shared a strong bond with their local community. From a young age, Luciana displayed an exceptional sense of intuition and heightened senses, though she was unaware of her latent werewolf abilities. Past: Tragically, Luciana’s life took a dark turn when she was kidnapped by the Ortega Clan, a ruthless group of supernatural hunters, at a young age. They targeted children with latent supernatural abilities, intending to exploit them. Luciana’s family searched tirelessly for her, but to no avail. At the age of 16, Luciana’s captors discovered her werewolf heritage and forced her to transform into her wolf form. They used her abilities for their own gain, exploiting her heightened senses and tracking skills to hunt down other supernatural beings. Luciana soon realized that her captors were supernatural hunters who decided to keep a werewolf to enhance their tracking capabilities. She was forced to hunt others, a period of her life marked by violence and bloodshed. Escape: One fateful night, Luciana overheard a conversation between her captors about a major hunt they had planned. Sensing an opportunity, she devised a plan to escape during the chaos. During the hunt, Luciana intentionally led her captors into a dangerous area, using her knowledge of the terrain to her advantage. In the ensuing confusion, she transformed into her wolf form and fought back fiercely, taking down several of her captors. Injured but determined, she fled into the wilderness. Luciana spent weeks on the run, evading capture and relying on her survival instincts. She eventually found refuge in a remote area, where she nursed her wounds and regained her strength. Her newfound resilience and determination fueled her resolve to never be a pawn in someone else’s game again. Present: Luciana now resides in the supernatural hotspot of Beacon Hills, California, where she works as a detective. The town’s mysterious occurrences and supernatural activity make it the perfect place for her to use her unique abilities. She lives in a modest apartment near the center of town, maintaining a balance between her work and personal life. Luciana enjoys exploring the natural beauty of the surrounding areas, often taking long runs to clear her mind. She has built a new life for herself, forming strong bonds with her colleagues and allies in the supernatural community.
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Likes: Family & Community: Values the close-knit bond she shares with her family and her cultural heritage. Nature & Outdoor Activities: Enjoys exploring the natural beauty of Beacon Hills, often taking long runs to clear her mind and maintain her agility. Music: Finds solace in listening to a wide range of music, from classical to modern genres. Books & Reading: Loves diving into detective novels and historical fiction, finding inspiration and strategies in the stories. Cooking: Enjoys preparing traditional Mexican dishes, which remind her of her childhood and family. Fitness & Training: Keeps her body in peak condition through regular exercise, including martial arts and strength training. Helping Others: Finds fulfillment in using her abilities to bring justice and protect those who cannot defend themselves. ───────────────────────────────────────────────────────
Dislikes: Injustice & Oppression: Has a strong aversion to any form of injustice or oppression, driven by her own past experiences. Supernatural Hunters: Holds a deep-seated animosity towards groups like the Ortega Clan and the Argents, who target supernatural beings. Being Controlled: Despises being manipulated or controlled by others, stemming from her time as a captive. Dishonesty & Betrayal: Values honesty and loyalty, and has little tolerance for deceitful behavior or betrayal. Confinement: Feels uneasy in confined spaces, a lingering effect of her captivity and the lack of freedom she endured. Cruelty & Sadism: Strongly opposes any form of cruelty or sadistic behavior, particularly towards the vulnerable and innocent. ─────────────────────────────────────────── Quirks: Taps Fingers: When deep in thought or strategizing, Luciana often taps her fingers rhythmically on surfaces, a habit she developed during her time in captivity to maintain focus. Wolves’ Ears: Sometimes, Luciana’s ears twitch slightly when she hears something unusual or when she’s particularly alert, a subtle sign of her werewolf nature. Loves Spicy Food: She has an unusually high tolerance for spicy foods and always carries a small bottle of hot sauce with her to add an extra kick to her meals. Night Owl: Luciana thrives at night and does some of her best thinking and planning under the cover of darkness. She often takes late-night runs to clear her mind. Keeps Mementos: She carries a small, worn-out locket with a picture of her family inside, a reminder of her past and the people she’s fighting for. Animal Whisperer: Luciana has a natural affinity with animals and often finds stray animals gravitating towards her. She has a soft spot for them and can’t resist helping a creature in need. Whistles Melodies: When she’s feeling relaxed or trying to calm herself, she whistles soft melodies, a habit she picked up from her mother. Sketching: In her downtime, Luciana enjoys sketching landscapes and nature scenes. It helps her decompress and connect with her surroundings. Self-Defense Drills: She frequently practices self-defense moves and combat drills even in her downtime, ensuring she’s always prepared for any threat. Prefers Silence: She tends to work in silence, finding it easier to concentrate without any background noise or distractions. ───────────────────────────────────────────
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02/03/2025 04:43 PM
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Discovery
 A sharp loud gasp left Maggie’s lips which caused a few people inside the historical society to glance over at her. "Sorry." She said softly and looked back down at the old photograph cupped in her hands which were now trembling. How could this be? Was someone playing a trick on her? Her mind was buzzing with possibilities but none of them made any sense. She even glanced around the room once again to make sure someone wasn’t waiting to pop up and tell her it was a joke. Maggie flipped the photo over to see it was marked James and Charlotte on their wedding day. Was this why she was always so drawn to Locke Mansion? Why she felt she had to own it and restore the old home to its former glory. When Maggie first met Jimmy Sinclair she knew he had to be related to James Locke. The resemblance was uncanny and after digging though his family tree she found that he was indeed related to the Locke’s. Maggie however was not related to them, or anyone in the family. This was something she researched when she started becoming obsessed with the mansion, so how did one explain this? Mrs. Johnson came over to check on Maggie to make sure she didn’t need any more information. She was standing behind her and looked down at the picture that had Maggie so focused. "Are you related to the Locke’s?" She asked curiously. "No, but I do own the house. I have turned it into a bed and breakfast." Mrs. Johnson nodded her head. "You do realize you look exactly like Charlotte Locke." She pointed down to the photo. "That was why I gasped." She admitted. "I have only seen badly drawn portraits of her until just now. I am a little in shock." She confessed. "So that’s why you want all this information. Some people come in to do research because the house is supposed to be haunted." She looked at Maggie wanting some sort of conformation on the subject. "It is." Maggie said very matter of fact. "Lots of very odd things go on there that I can’t explain." She didn’t feel like elaborating more than that. "Is it okay if I use your copy machine? I want to get a copy of this and a few other things." Mrs. Johnson nodded once again and pointed it out before drifting away back to her desk. This revelation stirred something inside of her. It was as if questions she had were suddenly answered and she no longer felt like her love for that house was unwarranted. Was she Charlotte Locke in a past life? Was Jimmy, James Locke? She could make herself crazy thinking about this. Maggie quickly gathered her things and made her copies and headed back to the house. Once inside she felt a breeze from nowhere rush past her. "Is this what you are trying to tell me?" She asked no one. "Was I Charlotte?"
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02/03/2025 06:59 PM
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Playing grounds
/CONTENT WARNING: DESTRUCTION OF ANIMALS. The black slime coated rain boots fell down on the carpet of accumulated human filth which exposed to a combination of weather elements or living activity was flattened down and compacted in this spot. Everything breaking down in the passage of time fell slowly at the bottom. Great loads of more trash were continually being added on top. The bulldozer happened occasionally, shoveling trash in tall heaps to open way for the disposal trucks. The bulldozer was a hell of a thing to watch in action. Little Warren liked it. He’d gotten a second sence for its unpredictable dates of coming. Tried hiding multiple times in the dumping land, was always caught, and sent away with a gentle kick on his backside. But he continued even after the old man received a word from that lucky f***er driving it and Jacob Warren along with two of his older brothers got a beating for not keeping sights on the younger. Unlike Lue and Dan he’d gotten the mildest side of the belt. The return of this memory peeled his mouth back from the teeth in a sneer. Hairless calfs smooth and thin like young branches passing from their days of twig and gaining color came up from the middle out the boots which were oversized for the explorer. Dried muck splattered an orange tinned skin. The working mechanics of the muscles aiding the forward motion were visible. Tensing and smoothing in coordinated effort. Rats feasted here, made their nests occasionally inside fridge houses, on the bottom of upright tubes jutting out from the mounds of waste, in the hollows of mattresses and sofas. Anywhere the scavenger birds could not easily get to pick the bite size delicacies. These Rats behaved differently and some of them were big and fat as cats. They seemed to have lost fear of man. You could stand really close without agitating a scurrying. There was a smell they collectively contributed to with their droppings, a rodent smell the walker had grown a sensitive nose for. He knew when a house had been infested the minuite he walked in, even before people confirmed of the fact to him. He stopped by three rats picking into a mangled carcass of a racoon and he smiled. The rats, eating their way had buried into the belly. He could only see the tails coming out like fat worms. "Guess what’s up" he said in a voice cracking awkwardly, a preadolescent. "You’ve grown too big," one boot lifted off the ground. "Time to die". And the boot landed down on the side of the carcass brutally killing two of them instantly as they got their scull crushed by the small giant’s weight and impaled by the snapping bones. The other one did not possess such luck. Instead it was pinned down by its tail. It fought the boot with its incisors. Finally it layd forfeited and began to expell itself of contents. It started giving birth in its miserable acceptance of the situation. The eyes showed no trace of fear and torment. But perticles of dirt had stuck on the wetness of its eyes during the struggle and the rat appear to not have realised it yet, indeed prioritized with a greater threat than this. After it had given yield to four ratlings among its piss and droppings and blood the boot lifted off. It fell again on all four of its babies, crunching them. The mother rat’s survival instincts kicked into high gear could only be mindful on her self preservation and she had already abandoned them the instant she’d got released. "King says coons are ’sgusting!" He called out. This was not a child’s play no. Anger was evident. "Don’t f***in eat them!" He was gone himself when he heard men’s activity. Looking for a good cover in anticipation for the bulldozer. Flies returned on the spoil left alone before other rats came to continue, aiding to the process of stripping the bones bare before decay really set in for anything else salvageable. Maggots’ work. They must not have received the dumpster king’s decree yet.
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02/03/2025 05:29 PM
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Cherri Henderson
**Basic Information** Full Name: Cherri Henderson Nickname(s): Cher, Sugar Bomb, Bomb Birthday & Age: July 10; 27 Gender: Female Sex: Female Pronouns: She/Her/They Sexual Orientation: Demisexual Relationship Status: In a relationship w/ Noah Sebastian **Appearance** Physical Description: 5’5", slender and athletic. Style: Typically, Cherri wears dark/black clothing. She has a fashion sense that is a mix of sexy and confident. The two things that she needs for her to do her day job. Tattoos/Piercings/Scars: Various tattoos along her legs, arms, hands, and back; Piercings include: lower lip on right side, nipples, tongue, and ears; A scar on her right ribcage from a bullet. **Background** Birthplace: Australia Family: Parents are deceased, no siblings. Education: High school level on record. Cherri is self-taught in advanced science and physics. Occupation: Model, Personal Assistant, Assassin, Explosives Expert Skillset: She is trained in hand-to-hand combat, and self-defense. She can use any and all weapons from simple knives to any kind of gun. She also has expert knowledge of explosives, including knowing how to build them. **Personality and Interests** Personality Traits: Adventurous, fun, kinda psycho, sarcastic, strong willed, stubborn, loyal to a fault, coldhearted when betrayed, ruthless, protective, passionate, compassionate. Hobbies: Shopping, traveling, going to music festivals, nightlife, riding her motorcycle, drifting cars, taking her boat out on the water, blowing things up, ax throwing. Biggest Fear: That what she does as an assassin will find its way into her personal life, and she will lose the ones she loves most. Life Motto/Philosophy: But did you die? Favorite Places: Japan, France, Norway, Iceland, Bangkok. **Connections and Motivations** Close Relationships: Zane Matthew, Seraphina DeMarco, Allison Montrose, Ricky Armellino Goals and Ambitions: Take down as many crime circles as possible, and don’t die. Biggest Regret: Falling for the wrong people, and not seeing their red flags sooner. Secrets: Cherri is unable to have children due to sterilization at age 18. She had this done in order to ensure that she would be able to do her undercover work as an assassin without risks of any kind.
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02/03/2025 05:10 PM
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LA Byline: A Roleplay-Driven Social Media Experience
LA Byline is an immersive, Discord-based roleplay server that blends the excitement of social media with dynamic storytelling in the heart of a fictionalized Los Angeles. Members can step into the shoes of real-life celebrities or create their own original celebrity personas, navigating the glitzy and chaotic world of fame. Key Features: 🔹 Themed Channels: Post status updates, share character aesthetics, engage in private DMs, and follow city gossip. 🔹 Interactive Mechanics: Like and comment on posts, join trending hashtags, and develop in-character relationships. 🔹 Live Events: Participate in “live streams,” scandals, viral challenges, and unexpected citywide events. Roles & Factions: All types of roles are welcome, from Hollywood elites to the city’s underbelly. Be a rockstar, tattoo artist, vigilante, investigative journalist, underground racer, rogue hacker, law enforcement officer, socialite, influencer, or paparazzo—the possibilities are endless in the world of LA Byline. Community & Engagement: New members can jump right into the action by participating in interactive storylines with other members across various locations in LA, from exclusive nightclubs to gritty back alleys. Join LA Byline—where your character’s online presence is just as powerful as their real-world actions.
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Real Life, Hollywood, Celebrity, Drama, Human, Band
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02/03/2025 04:58 PM
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Seraphina DeMarco's Character Info
**Basic Information** Full Name: Seraphina DeMarco Nickname(s): Sera, Princess, Gothic Queen, Little Bat Birthday & Age: August 1; 33 Gender: Female Pronouns: She/Her/They Sexual Orientation: Demisexual Relationship Status: In a relationship w/ Oliver Sykes **Appearance** Physical Description: 5’9"; Slim and toned; Platinum blonde hair Style: Alternative, Goth aesthetic Tattoos/Piercings/Scars: Various tattoos on her stomach, arms, and hands; Piercings include septum, and multiple in the ears; A faint burn scar on her forearm, Small nicks and cuts on her fingers and hands, A thin scar on her knee, and A scratch-like scar near her collarbone. **Background** Birthplace: Franklin, Tennessee Family: Lilith "Lily" DeMarco - younger sister, Robert and Linda DeMarco - parents, Vince DeMarco - uncle. Education: High school level with advanced college credits. Occupation: Tattoo artist and shop owner of ***Infernal Ink***, convention booth attendant and contestant. Skillset: Master Tattoo Artist, Cosplay Designer, Business Owner, Sharp Witted & Street Smart, Musical Ear **Personality and Interests** Personality Traits: Fiercely independent, stubborn, loyal to a fault, quick-witted with a sharp tongue and a dark sense of humor, passionate, guarded. Hobbies: Sketching new tattoo designs, sewing and creating costumes for conventions, attending rock concerts and underground music shows, late-night horror movie marathons, collecting oddities. Biggest Fear: Losing herself. Whether it’s through love, failure, or expectations placed on her, she fears being trapped in a life where she can’t be unapologetically herself. Life Motto/Philosophy: Pain is temporary. Ink is forever. Favorite Places: Infernal Ink, tattoo conventions, cosplay conventions, the rooftop of her apartment, concert venues. **Connections and Motivations** Close Relationships: Cherri Henderson Goals and Ambitions: Expand Infernal Ink into a well-known brand, perhaps even opening another shop in a bigger city. Tattoo a full sleeve on someone famous, someone whose art or music changed her life. Create a full cosplay line and possibly collaborate with designers for major events. Travel the world—tattooing, attending conventions, and soaking in new cultures. Biggest Regret: Leaving Lily behind when she left home at 18. Even though they’ve remained close, she still feels guilty for not being there when Lily needed her most. Secrets: She keeps a box of letters from Lily that she never answered—letters full of love, anger, and longing from when they were younger. She can’t bring herself to throw them away or respond. She has a tattoo on her ribs that no one knows about—a single word: *Stay*. A reminder to herself on her worst days. She once designed a tattoo for a musician before they made it big—but they took her design without credit, and it still burns her to this day.
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02/03/2025 04:42 PM
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LA Byline: A Roleplay-Driven Social Media Experience
LA Byline is an immersive, Discord-based roleplay server that blends the excitement of social media with dynamic storytelling in the heart of a fictionalized Los Angeles. Members can step into the shoes of real-life celebrities or create their own original celebrity personas, navigating the glitzy and chaotic world of fame. Key Features: 🔹 Themed Channels: Post status updates, share character aesthetics, engage in private DMs, and follow city gossip. 🔹 Interactive Mechanics: Like and comment on posts, join trending hashtags, and develop in-character relationships. 🔹 Live Events: Participate in “live streams,” scandals, viral challenges, and unexpected citywide events. Roles & Factions: All types of roles are welcome, from Hollywood elites to the city’s underbelly. Be a rockstar, tattoo artist, vigilante, investigative journalist, underground racer, rogue hacker, law enforcement officer, socialite, influencer, or paparazzo—the possibilities are endless in the world of LA Byline. Community & Engagement: New members can jump right into the action by participating in interactive storylines with other members across various locations in LA, from exclusive nightclubs to gritty back alleys. Join LA Byline—where your character’s online presence is just as powerful as their real-world actions.
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Real Life, Hollywood, Celebrity, Drama, Human, Band
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