This really blows.

"A talkative womanizer known as "Grinder" due to his attitude to dating. Although Keith can usually be found in the company of various women when off duty, his multiple honorable deeds as part of an elite mercenary unit earned him a place in the BSAA. His daily arguments with Quint, whose geeky inclinations and lack of confidence with women are often a target for Keith's jabs, have almost become a pastime for him." [[ Independent roleplay blog for Keith Lumley. ]] Pixel Source: Here

[bsaaoperativegrinder]

[[ I'm just gonna put Keith and Bruce on hiatus. Bye bye. ]]

[oneplasticweave]

The Tel Aviv Tan [Shaniqua/Keith Lumley]

[oneplasticweave]

             The Mediterranean waters rolled over onto the sandy shoreline, a susurrus of broken waves licking the bare heels of the now-reclining ebony beauty. Disembodied lyrics distantly reached out to her from the previously-traversed, footprint-trodden celebration. Ties that tethered her grew sparse.

             ”Wonda’ if mah pen’hous’ be all readay?”         

             The coastline of Jaffa had never before looked so pristine. In a time where the sun had long set behind the rising and falling tides, paper lanterns strung about and fire pits gave off unnatural warmth and a luminous glow on the Arabic city; the White City. Drew the city-dewllers out like moths to a yellow lamp. The locals were comfortably dressed in tank tops, shorts and flip-flops. Families passed through the sidewalk fluidly. People plucked their produce from the mini-marts stacked up outside. A quartet of men gathered around outside coffee tables and market stands, sipping on ice-cold Coronas. Young men and women welcomed themselves into the doors of V.I.P. clubs. Nightlife blossomed under the scant glimmers of the moonlight in the revolutionary city of Tel Aviv.     

               It almost seemed, throughout her trek down to the waters, that all life slipped away to the rolling darkness. Void of all life except trusty Luis Vuitton propped up next to her. Lanterns in the distance flickered with an unparalleled flame; contoured the dips and cracks in her body along with the gentle slope of her curves. She was alone; a moment of repose. At last.

[bsaaoperativegrinder]

"--we're losing her." A soft whine of discontent, and the dark-skinned agent put his head against the steering wheel as a sign of defeat. Looked like he wasn't about to be relaxing the rest of the night from the comfort of a vehicle. After a moment of self-pity, he cracked the door open, tossing the binoculars back at his partner.

"What are you doing? We were told to keep our-"

"Keep our distance, yeah yeah. But we're not supposed to let her out of out sight. And I don't see shit all besides some white ass tourist shaking his junk in shorts meant for girls." Keith, now exited, allowed a few to pass before opening up the back door. "You stay I'll go. Check things out."

"I don't think splitting up's a good idea." 

"Well golly gee, mom, I'm a big boy now." With a bit of thought, it grew frustratingly harder to figure out how he would conceal his kukris. Even under his jacket, their shape would form lines and creases, outlining them. Despite his partner's tuned-out protests, he was willing to risk it. "Look, I'll be good. Just gonna pop over, look the part, y'know. Try to find her, at least. If I need you, I'll call. But it'll look a bit fishy with two guys followin' her 'round." 

Careful to avoid unnecessary attention, he sheathed his blades, fiddling with the straps until this fit lower on his back, afterwards throwing his jacket on and checking his reflection in the side mirror. Luckily enough, his coat was loose enough to give it a baggy look -- at least he hadn't brought the leather one (even though he looked damn good in it). Although he wasn't sure he really needed to hide them away, the worry of a few jumpy individuals was always cause for concern. Of course, bringing these babies out was his favorite party trick, but now wasn't the time. 

With a nod, Keith stepped away, closing both doors. Sticking with the crowd was essential, so he did just that, making his way down the boardwalk just steps behind a talkative crowd. As the closed in on the heat of the party, he broke off into the bigger crowd, weaving through without too much contact, all smiles on his cheeky face. A woman, tray of drinks on hand in a perfect balance, stopped before him.

'--may as well.' Gotta look the part, after all. At least, that was his excuse for snagging a drink off the platter, shaking off that initial burn as he dove into his first swig. Now he looked -mostly- in place, only drawn out by his self-contained behavior as the rest of the crowd let loose, mingling and dancing. He found his direction, migrating closer to the edge, but not noticeably out of it.

'There she is.'

[lildrunk-deactivated20131002]

i need kisses and attention and alcohol

[bsaaoperativegrinder]

phantomtyrant replied to your post: [[ What sucks about losing the other laptop is...

[-wheezes- take your time im just happy you’re back and in good health~]

[[ /heaves you're too good to me. ; w ;;;; I saw your starter like 758937 years ago when I checked from school and I was like "aHHHHHH" because it's going to be fantastic. ]]

[bsaaoperativegrinder]

[[ What sucks about losing the other laptop is that now I have 0 icons of Keith. At least a few of my Bruce icons are on my USB but allllll my Keith icons are gone until we get a new cord. ; - ; ]]

[bsaaoperativegrinder]

The talking shibe has found you. "Sup dude man guy! I'm Prince... Down here!" [Hope I am not ruining anything by being a DOGE! ;~; ]

[[ I AM GOING TO GET IT STRAIGHT NOW THAT YOU WILL NEVER RUIN ANYTHING BY BEING A DOGE. I LOVE YOU AND YOUR DOGGIES. ]]

Perks up his attention, looking around a bit before finally spotting the dog at his feet.

Too many drugs.

[theprincehasmoved-deactivated20]

"Wow man, rude. You could have said hell. I said I was down HERE!" To make himself more noticeable he perches himself on his show and stands on his hind legs to nip at his pants. 

[bsaaoperativegrinder]

The Lumley is not okay, repeat, the Lumley is not okay.

Pats his head gently. "Yeah, man, I saw you. --watch where you're biting!" Holds his own head, scratching at the back of his neck in a confused manner.

[bsaaoperativegrinder]

[[ files under interests ]]

[bsaaoperativegrinder]

"Dogs are talking."

Can't even remember the last time he smoked. Lordy.

[bsaaoperativegrinder]

*whispers* his fc should be wiz khalifa

[[ idk when i got this message probably 10000 years ago but eue that's what i thought too ]]

[bsaaoperativegrinder]

The talking shibe has found you. "Sup dude man guy! I'm Prince... Down here!" [Hope I am not ruining anything by being a DOGE! ;~; ]

[[ I AM GOING TO GET IT STRAIGHT NOW THAT YOU WILL NEVER RUIN ANYTHING BY BEING A DOGE. I LOVE YOU AND YOUR DOGGIES. ]]

Perks up his attention, looking around a bit before finally spotting the dog at his feet.

Too many drugs.

[bsaaoperativegrinder]

19?

"Lower."

[roleplayaskmemes]

Guess the age my muse lost their virginity

[bsaaoperativegrinder]

{scars meme} - i needed room to write everything i wanted

[xx-foundyou-deactivated20130913]

"It truly isn’t, well for people who keep their morals and live by them." A small chuckle, a very light one to express her modesty. "If I could act or whatever without being caught up in the limelight, I would."

- - - - - 

She drove along, following him as they took turn after turn. Heart beating, she was nervous for once in her life, and this was technically nothing.

After Zenobia, after joining the BSAA and getting her life back together and moving back to Europe, she kept to herself. She needed a new start to her life, she needed a refresher. No idea on how to hang out with people, she could only recall certain social instances rarely. Her memory was still coming back to her, ever so slowly.

Solitude is how she lived now, what she enjoyed.

Her eyes on the rode, quiet music, that wouldn’t bother her and start a flashback, was playing. Almost as if she had created a haven for herself in the vehicle she drove in. It was difficult for her to do so, but she managed everywhere she went to create that haven - that comfort zone.

A safe place.

They arrived at their destination, some out of the way join that she never knew about. Really, she knew nothing about the city she had moved back to. Car in park, she gazed before shutting it off and exiting, her eyes finding Keith waiting for her. “How’d you find this place, huh?”

[bsaaoperativegrinder]

A soft chuckle, lips curling into that signature smile that he always had glued to his face. "Uhh--" He shook his head, stepping away from the vehicle and joining her at he side. "You'd be surprised what two newbies can find explorin' the city." Of course, that's leaving out the part where they had been hopelessly lost in the middle of the night. And that he'd been higher than a kite that specific night. No, she wasn't ready for the dirty details that made up the life of Keith Lumley.

"C'mon, let's grab a seat before someone else takes up my favorite." By habit, his hand was immediately behind her back, though he stopped himself in time to thing it through. Rachael -- she wasn't the usual. Something was off about the girl, in a way where he almost felt sorry for her every time he saw her. Something about her face, her eyes, it locked away secrets, much like he'd seen before in others. 

Biting his lip, before he lingered too long for it to be noticeably awkward, he gently allowed his fingertips to press lightly into her back, leading her along with him to the doorway. He wasn't absolutely certain as to why he took such care in his behavior around her, but it only felt natural to do so. An obligation, almost. 

"Just don't go too crazy, sweetheart. I know how wild you must be, what with all the crazy parties you go to." Keith pulled the door open, leading her in first before following himself, that joking tone rolling off his tongue.

Looks could be deceiving, but he didn't see her being the party girl bouncing off the table, not that he would've minded, really. In reality, he was much more fearful of some sort of painful heart-to-heart if the alcohol got through to her.

[oneplasticweave]

The Tel Aviv Tan [Shaniqua/Keith Lumley]

[oneplasticweave]

        Shaniqua’s partying acted as the kiss of death against the ever radiant sun— as a giant axe wound that rippled into and alongside the shores of The White City. A deep orange precursored the black woman’s witching hour— harbinger to the crimson skies she took a penchant to. Bleeding heavens oozed a radiant glow that reflected off the now-torpid Mediterranean. Bamboo Tiki torches and other beach apparel jutted out of the golden granules in random positions, and with that, the unnatural warmth radiating off of the partiers and their dazzling ensembles. Decorated lanterns streamlined the mahogany bar and DJ stage, highlighting the cleavage and mohawks of the crowd; emphasized the all-natural dew of the human body. Huffs and puffs escaped the amidst the limbs flailing and asses gyrating. One minute, the dancers were there, the next— they were in the scandalous party underworld. Ruler? Shaniqua was Hades reincarnated. Just like the potentate governed her gang, she governed the fates of all who inhabited the beach.         

               The rave on the sands called out to her, sparking what wistful desires that were left unfulfilled. Set her inner hellfire, her passion for dancing. Seared away all other rational thought.  Womens’ asses ground up against the crotches of men, sweet smoke billowing from the contact. The music had commanded them to raise their hands in the air, waving the appendages around wildly, nearly to a flailing point. The limbs raised were to outnumber the stars themselves. A sea of hands overshadowed the party, raising to the stratospheric scent of cheap perfume and sweat. It competed lividly with the salt spray of the ocean. Shaniqua bobbed her head intensely, bouncing her sultry curls more than the Crips and Bloods. Hair lashed around like a whip, teasing men with wanton personalities. Like a drop of blood in a gallon of water, this was intently what brought in the men yearning for more. Wistful desire dripped off of their very essense.  Seeped out of their pores. Tenacious hands and ornery digits brushed up against the milk chocolate, skin titillatingly pulsating from the gropes. 

             Alas, even the most avid party-goer needed a repose from the events earlier in the day. Her throat felt as dry as the Sahara and as hot, to boot. Another shot of vodka with cranberry juice fixed that problem. Wicker chairs welcomed her figure, bending under the tension of the weight. “Now hoo da wut,” the stentorian whispered to herself, umber eyes fixated on a constant element all throughout the evening. Paranoia was a termagant feeling on her body. “Gurl stahp!" she shook it off, while another shot of vodka and cranberry soared down her throat. "Yu on da’ otha’ side a’ da’ world!" She peeled Luis Vuitton’s lips open and made sure her bug-out bag was packed in case of an uprising event. She dismissed the threat, it was impossible that America could have tracked her down to one of its most prudent enemies across the globe. Still, the feeling lingered, but eventually washed away with the consumption of more alcohol. "Jus’ don’ get too drunk," 

[bsaaoperativegrinder]

"Why are we even playing lapdog for the Americans, anyway? She isn't the BSAA's problem. We've got our hands full of bioterrorism, not fuckin'--" Keith tilted his head, trying to get a look through the newer crowd of individuals that clouded the area. "--some chick they got beef with over God knows what the FBI looks into." It was getting a tad more difficult to keep her in direct sight.

"Maybe you'll get a bonus for dragging yourself up here. And a medal. Maybe you can go meet the president."

"Really?"

"No, do your job and stop complaining." Keith huffed, turning his focus back onto the woman, his train of thought being at a constant threat of derailment. Exactly why he wasn't the type to spy -- too easily distracted, especially by women who just so happened to have curves in all the right places. 

He was convinced that it would be possible to move closer, his pistol concealed, but he didn't want to risk leaving his babies behind. Without them, that lingering sense of nakedness lingered across him. He'd wait. Until she was completely out of his sights or the crowd got too heavy or something beyond suspicious happened. With a sigh, he settled to lean on the steering wheel, still peering through the binoculars.

Long night ahead. 

[oneplasticweave]

The Tel Aviv Tan [Shaniqua/Keith Lumley]

                           Tel Aviv, the Middle Eastern marvel in and of itself. The coastline was breathtaking and projected the tropical climate upon a Greco-Roman Pedestal. The majestic Mediterranean’s ripples gently sifted the sparkling-white sand, encompassing the granules into an even greater lot. Coconut Palms swayed back and forth, teased by the ever so calm breeze. Hums of beach-goers filled the sweet air along with the sputtering chirp of seagulls. There was nary a fleck of clouds in the heavens to restrain the sheer daintiness the atmosphere had to offer.         

             Farther inland, a staccato of clicks sounded across the boardwalk that ran all the way to Hamas. She watched, perpetual red-lips pursed, as the jet-skiers, in a blended mix of colors, roll onto the Plutonian Shores like churning waves. Rich and smokey smells of baked timbers seasoned with crusted salt circulated through Theseus’s maze of beach junkies— oiled down with the latest tanning products. The ever-expanding planks of wood became a world-class cat-walk where patrician bathing suits made their seaside debuts and designer sunglasses served a much more “important” purpose than providing shaded vision. This Mecca of trends— designed for the beautiful people. Beautiful people like the Diva Shaniqua herself. She stolidly belonged on this beach more than savior-Jesus belonged in the heavens. It was her right to relax; to interpolate pleasure among work.          

              The black woman’s hips swayed in a sensuous display of her generous curvature. The beach coverup swaddled her frame, bringing her comfort in a foreign environment. Shaniqua casually ventured off the boardwalk and entered, as a supermodel, into a magazine scene advertising a paradise of prestige and glamor. She crossed over onto the sands of coolness; stepped onto the Tel Aviv Coastline.       

             With one gratuitous yank, an ebony hand tore of her beach covering, her outer shell, and cast it off into the breeze. Curled ebony locks hung lowly over her shoulders, like a curtain of sorts to her hoisted cleavage, while a narrow bikini found itself nuzzled betwixt two ample cheeks. A sexy figure and beach body unleashed to all.     

       Set her Luis Vuitton bag down on an untouched patch of sand and ordered up an extra alcoholic Pina Colada. This would be a night of freedom, eternality and ease. 

[bsaaoperativegrinder]

"Who does he think I am? Some kinda babysitter? I ain't no spy." The cigarette was torn from his lip, hanging with his arm out of the open window. His head tilted back, emitting a deep sigh that blew the smoke from his lungs. "Don't even get some sweet ass gadgets."

"What'd you expect? X-ray goggles and laser lipstick?"

"Fuck off. But hey--" Keith sat back up straight, head nearly hitting the roof of the truck. He leaned towards the window, tipping his sunglasses down for a better view of the young women walking nearby, pale eyes following them as they walked. "X-ray goggles might not be so bad. Definitely wouldn't say no." Another woman passed, catching his eye and smiling, which he return with pleasure. It earned him a light punch to his arm from his colleague, which made his slam his head in a jump.

"You need to focus. We're on-duty here. Not for sight-seeing."

Keith slumped in his seat, feeling the heat radiate inside, the air becoming dry, despite the open windows. He didn't belong here. On the field, with a gun, that's where he belonged. Fighting monsters, takin' down badies. And here he was -- stuck in a truck with some asshole try'na watch out for some chick that found her way onto the BSAA's radar. Although chances of anything interesting happening were slim, at least they had the decency to leave him with a pistol. And, of course, his prized babies. Sheathed and shined, sitting in the back seat. He couldn't bare leaving them behind.

"Man, give me those. You're being too obvious." Snatching the binoculars from his co-worker's hand, he scoffed and put his shades up. "Dumbass nigga leaning out the window bein' all creepy and shit. What's wrong with you?" He brought them to his own eyes, trying to relocate the target. It didn't take long to spot her, finding her on the beach in an itty bitty bathing suit. "She's hot."

"She's probably dangerous."

"You're probably a pussy."

[bsaaoperativegrinder]

[[ /loses a bunch of followers for not being super active

/doesn't have icons

/trying to break in a new account

;~; I'm sorry. ]]

[bsaaoperativegrinder]

[[ All of my characters are going to end up super parent-y even though they're both super awkward with kids because Keith is a big child at heart so he's like "AGGRESSIVELY PROTECT U now let's play video games ok follow my rules the only rule is don't be a square" and Bruce can't have kids so he kinda just looks at them like "maybe i should stay far away ; - ; /adopt u" ]]