forever;

forever can be such a lonely word - independent multimuse rp - please tag eating disorders

[cternity]

hey, im not dead anymore. last time i posted i was 16. just turned 17 16 days ago. fun

lmk if you want a starter? my writing has gotten super better and i would love to start roleplaying again. i missed these characters So Much

[cternity]

hey, im not dead anymore. last time i posted i was 16. just turned 17 16 days ago. fun

lmk if you want a starter? my writing has gotten super better and i would love to start roleplaying again. i missed these characters So Much

[cternity]

boredom is truly a peculiar thing...

does anyone want a starter?

[cternity]

like / hmu for a starter?

[cternity]

Important

I’m posting ths early, but I know people who genuinely care will see this. So, here we go.

This blog is seriously fucking with my mental health and I’m deciding to care about myself, here. I’m leaving this blog, at least for now. Whether I’m gone for a month, or forever, all depends whether I’ve gotten better or if I’m ready to put myself through the hate I have of this again.

So, yeah. See you later. Or never again.

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[hipster-and-thoughts]

[fresh-mind-fresh-day-deactivate]

Fresh Mind Fresh Day 👌

[so-pale-girl]

[so-pale-girl]

[teenagehipst3r]

[yoursummerdreamz]

[yoursummerdreamz]

[theabandonedones-moved]

Brother Dear || Closed AU RP

[cternity]

theabandonedones:

cternity:

At the invitation to enter, he slowly opens the door and steps in. Quietly shutting it behind himself once he is fully inside the room, he feels his phone buzz inside his pocket once more, and he’s pretty sure there might be a war going on in the group chat at this point. Or maybe just thoughts and opinions and things of the same. He decides to check, quickly. Not taking enough time to be rude, but long enough to read the messages and return one.

“Is the closet in your room as huge as it is in mine?” He still hasn’t looked up from his phone, eyes scanning over the conversation. Tessa, of course, encouraging him to not be a dick and open them already and to keep her updated on it. “Because I can actually walk inside mine. It’s weird.” He sends back an upset emoticon before slipping his phone back into his pocket.

 He finally looks around the room, deciding not to be too invasive with where his eyes look and only taking in the general appeal of it. It was nice, obvious that the kid had been living here for a long time, personalized to how the kid liked it instead of the blank walls that were currently in his room. The only personalized thing in his new room at the current point in time is the mass amount of pictures he had pinned up, and then taped up when he ran out of board to put his pictures up. From pictures he took when he saw bands, to just areas, to his friends and him, his mediocre photography skills still good enough to make him smile at the memories that came with the pictures. 

“I can personally say I’ve never experienced a closet so grandiose I could just.. fit myself in it,” and Nico has to say that he’s a pretty small person. Not extremely small, but small enough that he could wedge himself under his bed back at the Moyer’s.

He continues to pick at the hole in the collar of his extremely outdated Fleetwood Mac shirt, a little nervous tic he picked up awhile ago. Back when tearing apart the skin behind his fingernails started to get old, and not being able to experience the pain just got boring. Instead, he destroys his clothing. Self destructive habits was something that he needed to distance himself from, even if he has no chance of actually destroying himself.

He’s still avoiding looking directly at the kid. 

It’s pretty silly, how anxious he’s getting over something as dumb and simple as this. But, boy. He just genuinely doesn’t want people to not like him, and first impressions are typically hugely important. Especially when it comes to someone who’s supposed to be family for the next two years of his life. 

Maybe not making direct eye contact isn’t the best option if he wishes to make a good first impression, but Nico is so incapable of making friends that he doesn’t already have. He’s fifty years old, how is he supposed to relate and befriend an actual fifteen year old? ‘Hello fellow cool, young kid. Are you interested in speaking of memes and bands that existed before you were born?’? So, instead of being sociable in a normal way, he just talks about how big his closet is and stands by the entrance of the room, stiff and awkward. At least he’s smiling? 

Braiden watched from his bed as Nico entered his room, fidgeting slightly, taking deep breaths of the scented air to try and keep himself from panicking. Stay calm, you don’t want to embarrass yourself…

“Yeah it is.”

He smiled a bit, finding it funny how fascinated Nico was with the size of the closet. Braiden had seen walk in closets before, but he had never been blessed enough to have one. It was impressive as hell, and he was happy to fill the space with all of the cute clothes his parents would buy him. He loved clothes, after all. Shopping was great therapy. New clothes made him feel happy and confident.

“I’m glad it’s big, I like clothes..”

He mumbled the words softly, shyly, almost embarrassed by the girly confession. He liked clothes. It was such a feminine thing to say. He really hoped his new brother didn’t harass him for being so… un manly. The boys at the orphanage were horrible about that. He remembered hiding in his tiny hole of a closet there, tying a rope to the knob and the rack inside the tiny space so no one could get in. He would stay in there for hours, until one of the workers pried him out for lunch or dinner…

No, he was definitely glad to be with this family. Even if he was stupid and a burden, and they had gotten sick of him. Even if they wanted to replace him with Nico.

He fidgeted slightly, trying to decide what to say next. He wanted to continue this conversation, but closet size wasn’t the easiest thing to talk about. It was obvious that Nico had just wanted to try and say… something. Maybe he was trying to be nice. He hoped so.

Braiden peeked up at him, watching the other boy fidget slightly. He swallowed, running his hand through the ends of his hair nervously.

“D-Did you open the presents..?”

He swallowed, hoping his gift hadn’t seemed pathetic to the boy. It was so simple, so dumb. His parents had at least tried. He took a deep breath, wiggling over on his bed so he wasn’t in the middle of it.

“Come s-sit d-down.”

Damn his nervous stutter.

Sitting down? Yeah, sitting down is definitely something Nico is capable of doing. Stepping forward and sitting himself down on the other’s bed, not trying to take up too much space, not trying to be rude and intrusive. God, Nico just really doesn’t want to be rude and intrusive and he’s too nice to say anything about it, not wanting to cause worry within only knowing these people for less than an hour. 

“I really want to, you know?” 

He finds it easier to smile, lips quirked up instead of pulled down. He finds it easier to seem happy and polite instead of a nervous wreak about to fall apart. It’s so much easier to seem indifferent than to sound like he cares too much already. He just wants to make a first impression that isn’t completely awful. He forces himself to calm down and to not mess this up, to be okay. He does come down from the nerves, instead left smiling lightly and finally comfortable in his own skin for the first time so far in this day. He knows that hesitance and shyness won’t be generally smiled upon in this house, he’s been scolded before for keeping to himself, so he’ll do his best to not make the mistake of being too introverted this time around. He needs to learn from his previous mistakes. 

“It’s just that, I really don’t even know you guys, and I’d feel bad, I guess?” He doesn’t know how to explain himself in this situation, it’s hard explaining his feelings. 

He shifts slightly, trying to find a way to comfortably sit and only take up a small portion of the bed. Out of habit, he checks his phone and the messages that had been piling up since he abandoned it a whole of three minutes ago. He reads over the messages quickly and lets his lips quirk up slightly, sending a short ‘guys stop ‘m talkin 2 new bro’ and tucking his phone back into his jeans. His phone immediately vibrates as soon as he puts it back in his pocket and he tries not to look annoyed, he really does. He loves the friends he’s made over the years, but sometimes he genuinely believes they have literally no lives. 

“I don’t like people spending money on me. I never really have,” he brings up his shoulders in a small and easy shrug, as if it wasn’t excruciatingly hard for him to just explain this in the tiny details he’s currently giving. “It’s kind of odd, because I love getting new stuff. Just. Not when other people buy it for me. I’m a joy to shop for during the holidays.”

His phone buzzes again in his pocket, and he rolls his eyes. Quickly taking it from the home it has made inside his pocket, he quickly powers it off before shoving it back in. A boy can only deal with his friends for so long before he has to physically ignore them. He’s immensely grateful they exist, but their existences need to calm down from time to time.

He goes back to picking at the hole in the collar of his T-Shirt, lips slightly pursed. Some of the tension has left his shoulders, and he doesn’t look nervous anymore, and he doesn’t feel nervous. He assumes that must be a good thing. 

“I’m sorry, ‘m pretty awful at doing the people thing,” he offers, as if the words he just said would make anything he’s been doing since he sat down any less awkward. One would assume a fifty year old would be a little better with people than he is, but that would be the exact opposite with him. “Talking. Emotions. They’re pretty hard, yeah?” He offers a small smile, “Sorry,” he apologizes once more. 

He lowers his hand from the collar of his shirt and just rests his hands on the top of his thighs, casual. He reminds himself that he’s just talking to a kid, and the kid is probably not going to harm him in any way, so he doesn’t need to be any form of nervous. And with that thought, it seems as though his nerves simply just.. leave.

Well, at least he doesn’t have the jitters anymore. 

He’s pretty sure that’s a good thing.

[cternity]

- round & round -

[cternity]

dxnseuse:

cternity:

What does Ayana enjoy outside of clubbing? She thinks she explained this already, but she doesn’t really care enough to recall the memory of her talking about it. Instead, she watches with slight interest as the other picks around with her makeup with slight interest. She’s probably just old fashioned, but she never really understood the point of it outside of tiny things. She wears eyeliner, that’s close to it. She supposes she’ll ask someone about it later on in her life, where her ignorance isn’t mistaken for arrogance and her question isn’t seen as ridiculing. She’s learned her life lessons on when to question things and when not to question things. Instead, she decides to simply focus on the question posed.

“Almost nothing. I used to box when I was twenty, now my life is pretty much this, grad school, and music.”

Oh God, that sounds a lot more pathetic when it’s said out loud. A quick shrug of the shoulders upholds the indifference in her voice, for she’s trying to genuinely not care about how much her life has gone down the drain since she was little. She guesses that’s what happens when people she trusts tries to kill her, her life goes straight down the drain and she spirals into questioning what she did wrong. And then she ends up hiding her sorrows for the next thousands of years. Dwelling on the thought makes it worse, so she decides not to dwell on the thought and to pull her phone out. Checking for texts, or maybe missed calls. Oh, Bryant sent a photo to her. She’ll look at it later. For now, her phone is just a quick distraction. A quick distraction to make her feel a bit better.

A small chuckle exits her lips as she slips her phone back into her jacket pocket. “That’s actually really pathetic sounding,” she admits to herself and to the other. “But, hey. It’s better than my only hobby being loafing around in places like these.” She’s too old to have a midlife crisis, she decides. And she should get over herself. 

Picking apart people and the things they say was a talent of the young dancers. In this situation, there wasn’t much to look into. Such a boring life this beautiful woman held. Didn’t she at least have some sort of interest in something interesting? Then again, I guess one doesn’t become a teacher to live an ‘exciting’ life. Still, Luna was surprised she didn’t have a collection, a passion of some sort. Sighing, she even wondered if she would be worth her time. It was too late to back out though, really.

“That’s all you do? It must be terribly boring.”

Her voice was almost sarcastic, holding a rude edge that she just couldn’t keep off of it. Luna could be such a bitch when she wanted to be, and now was no exception to that rule. Another sip was taken, eyes flicked to the clock.. It was time to get shit moving. She wasn’t going to be stuck here for another hour talking to someone who wouldn’t remember her in 48 hours. Here for one thing, and one thing only. the brunette put on a cocky, and only slightly bitchy, look, she leaned across the table. Her lips were nearly brushing the others, and her warm breath could be felt against Ayana’s skin as she began to speak. 

“Tell you what, sweetie, let’s get out of this dump, and go somewhere more exciting, hm?”

Leaning back again, she made a show of running her tongue seductively over her lips. Now to wait for a response. If the woman refused, then Luna would be going home alone tonight. That would be sad, but better than waiting around for someone who isn’t interested in the first place.

Ayana’s glad that they have reached a point where they are just beyond small talk, and she’s overjoyed that her idle chitchat has gotten her somewhere besides shun and kicked out of from the table. While no smile quirks upon her lips, her eyes light up with a kind of joy and understanding. Maybe there’s some surprise written on her face, surprise with still being given a chance after admitting to how pathetic her life is. She guesses she’s passionate about music, going through her years perfecting one instrument before moving on to another. However, she views that as a hobby and not a life’s passion. At the end, she’s a pretty boring person.

“Exciting? Like, Chuck-E-Cheese’s exciting, or this is an invitation to sleep with you exciting? Because those are very different things.”

Nonetheless, she’s already standing. Getting up from her position in the chair and letting her muscles adjust to the new position she’s put herself in. She probably shouldn’t be going off with a stranger that’s probably pitying her in five different ways at once, and none of them in the good way. Completely unaffected by the way the other was attempting to be seductive, not that it wasn’t a nice bonus to the thinly veiled offer for sex. It’s a very nice accompaniment, and she appreciates it greatly. She’s just learned that any type of warm up is next to nothing compared to the actual thing, and actual flirting gets boring after a long time. Maybe she shouldn’t accept an offer of pity sex, but Ayana clearly doesn’t learn from previous mistakes. 

“Doll, you could take me to the McDonald’s around the corner and I’d still be pretty happy with how my life’s going,” which wasn’t a lie, “but I sincerely doubt that’s what you’re offering, so please do lead the way.”

She shifts her weight from one foot to the other and lets out an almost breathless giggle. And here she thought she’d be going back home to her miserable roommate tonight, whom she loves dearly, even though he’s a miserable prick. 

[cternity]

‘Sacha’ Hayes / Youth / 195 Years Old

Sacha never was someone who was considered normal, especially when she was young. Sacha was someone who picked fights where fights weren’t necessary, Sacha was someone who so strongly believed in a world that so strongly didn’t. Sacha is someone who was, and still is, so strongly optimistic and so willing to try to change the world, most people don’t even assume they’re blind. Upon first meeting, people just see Sacha as rebel who will try to flip the world upside down, they don’t have the time to assume Sacha is blind before they’re hit with the angry words and persistence of change. Growing up in the early 1800′s did not aid Sacha, or their persistence to make the world a better place. Not being able to see made things difficult when they attempted to change things around, people only seeing the dress they were wearing and the eyes they couldn’t see out of and feeling instant pity instead of anything for their strong opinions. Being shaped by the way society treated them, Sacha grew and they grew irritable. Protests where they spoke instead of stayed silent, revolution on their tongue, and in the end, it’s what almost got them killed. At age 19, Sacha decided starting something with a police officer would be a good idea. At age 19, Sacha was proved wrong. Their miracle survival being explained by their staying 19 forever, Sacha Hayes ran from home by age 20, and has been everywhere since. Still picking up personal battles and starting to shape the world into a better place.

Sacha is determined, and so heavily optimistic. They sincerely believe the world can be taught to be a better place, even if it isn’t them that teaches them that lesson. Sacha tries to stay out of direct spotlight, it would be awful if they were found in a newspaper clipping from a hundred years ago. Loud and unapologetic and trying to cause some kind of change, here they are. Sacha Hayes won’t stop, they won’t give up. Sacha Hayes, through 195 years of dealing with the bullshit that is humanity, has seen change happen. Sacha Hayes knows humans can change their minds and societies can grow and learn, given the proper time. Sacha Hayes will not stop until society has stopped learning, and Sacha Hayes knows that will never happen, and they are never going to stop.

Sacha Hayes, who knows one lesson might need to be taught more than once.

PARA - CONV - STARTER - LIKES - FACE - +INFO

[theabandonedones-moved]

Brother Dear || Closed AU RP

[cternity]

theabandonedones:

cternity:

Looking at the two boxes, wrapped neatly and tightly, Nico purses his lips with a sigh. He knows it would be rude and terrible to ignore them, but he barely knows these people. He isn’t going to take things from them without even knowing them. He knows what a house warming gift is, but he just… Feels pretty bad this family spent money on him without even really knowing him. Surely the money could have gone to something better, something that’s not someone they’re only going to know for two years before he leaves their lives forever. 

Instead of worrying about it, he places the two wrapped boxes up onto his desk and out of sight before pulling his phone out of his pocket, throwing himself onto his desk chair, and exhaling loudly. Maybe he should go socialize with his new family, talk to them and be polite and charming and wonderful. Or, of course, he could just crack open his book about scientific research on amaras and laugh about how much scientists have it wrong. Or, he could just text his friends. Yeah, that’s a good way to spend his time.

He snaps a quick picture of his presents and sends it to his group chat of his friends that actually understand modern technology, accompanied with the words, ‘i feel bad about this, but id feel even worse not accepting it,’ before slipping his phone back in his pocket. He leans back, propping the chair so it was back on two legs. Boredom overcoming him now that he was done with everything he needed to be done with. Except unwrapping the gifts he feels guilty about having. He knows Sekibo, with her quick fingers and quicker mind, will send back a ‘give them 2 me,’ and that will spiral into an intervention over her greed that he really doesn’t want to be a part of.

So, his phone stays in his pocket even when he feels it vibrate. Numerous times. The intervention already having started in the pocket of his jeans.

He decides to slip out of the decent shirt he was previously wearing, dragging out a his extremely worn Fleetwood Mac shirt he bought when he saw them in tour, so faded and worn, but still large enough to pool down to his thighs and just.. hang. His obscenely large shirt making him look larger than he really is, not clinging to him like his other one was. He grabs his book, previously mentioned, from his suit case as well, and exits his room.

He’s not sure how long he’s been locked in his room exactly, but it couldn’t have been too long. If it had been very long, he’s pretty sure he would’ve been called down for some form of dinner that won’t sit well in his stomach. He silently shuts the door behind him and looks at the door across from his. Music blaring loudly through the shut door, some band that he’s too old to recognize. He considers what the consequences would be if he were to knock and enter the room. Would he be welcome in the new area, or would he be seen as an unwelcome guest and be thrown out immediately. Thoughts soaring and fingers picking a hole in the collar of his shirt, he decides not to hesitate.

He’s learned to not live his life in fear of something bad happening. The worst thing that could possibly happen in this scenario is his feelings being hurt, and come pass a hundred years, he’ll forget about the entire exchange. This minor action will only influence two years of his entire life. And according to this book, golly he sure doesn’t have feelings of sadness because he’s just living the good life.

With a small sigh, he walks across the hall to the door that he was so contemplative and worried about. Hesitant, but not quite sure what he was so hesitant about, he sharply knocks upon the door. Quiet enough to be polite, but loud enough to be heard over the blaring music.

Braiden slowly managed to calm himself down again. He left his music on as he finally crawled out from under his blankets, only to change into a soft sweater over his short Nike shorts. He didn’t bother fixing his mussed up hair, simply flopping back down on his bed with a quiet groan.

This was when normal teens would text their friends and vent, or ask to sneak out. Maybe a normal teen would smoke. Braiden preferred candles. Cigarettes smelled funny, and he had nearly no friends to speak of, but candles… The fire was so calming, flickering back and forth, and they smelled so wonderful… Not to mention he could ‘accidentally’ burn himself on them.

He debated a bit, then wiggled onto his stomach so he could light one of the brightly colored, scented candles beside his bed. He laid close to it, enjoying the warmth on his face and the calm of the flickering flame…

He wasn’t sure how long he laid like that, but he was sure he zoned out or dozed off… Something. He was jarred out of his nice, relaxing moment by a sharp knock to his door. It wasn’t his mom or dad, they either didn’t knock or texted him… no this had to be his new brother..

He turned the volume on his music down a bit, shifting into a sitting position on his bed, teeth digging into his lips as he stared at the door.

“Come in..”

He spoke the words softly, almost scared. What did the boy want? Instinctively, he tugged his sleeves down over his hands, not wanting any scars to be showing. The extremely faded ones on his legs were okay, but he knew that around his hips and on his arms… He didn’t want Nico to see those. He didn’t even want his parents to see those. He knew they would blame themselves for his problems… He was the problem.

He pushed those thoughts away as he watched the stranger enter his room, not wanting to clue him into the turmoil inside of his head.

At the invitation to enter, he slowly opens the door and steps in. Quietly shutting it behind himself once he is fully inside the room, he feels his phone buzz inside his pocket once more, and he’s pretty sure there might be a war going on in the group chat at this point. Or maybe just thoughts and opinions and things of the same. He decides to check, quickly. Not taking enough time to be rude, but long enough to read the messages and return one.

“Is the closet in your room as huge as it is in mine?” He still hasn’t looked up from his phone, eyes scanning over the conversation. Tessa, of course, encouraging him to not be a dick and open them already and to keep her updated on it. “Because I can actually walk inside mine. It’s weird.” He sends back an upset emoticon before slipping his phone back into his pocket.

 He finally looks around the room, deciding not to be too invasive with where his eyes look and only taking in the general appeal of it. It was nice, obvious that the kid had been living here for a long time, personalized to how the kid liked it instead of the blank walls that were currently in his room. The only personalized thing in his new room at the current point in time is the mass amount of pictures he had pinned up, and then taped up when he ran out of board to put his pictures up. From pictures he took when he saw bands, to just areas, to his friends and him, his mediocre photography skills still good enough to make him smile at the memories that came with the pictures. 

“I can personally say I’ve never experienced a closet so grandiose I could just.. fit myself in it,” and Nico has to say that he’s a pretty small person. Not extremely small, but small enough that he could wedge himself under his bed back at the Moyer’s.

He continues to pick at the hole in the collar of his extremely outdated Fleetwood Mac shirt, a little nervous tic he picked up awhile ago. Back when tearing apart the skin behind his fingernails started to get old, and not being able to experience the pain just got boring. Instead, he destroys his clothing. Self destructive habits was something that he needed to distance himself from, even if he has no chance of actually destroying himself.

He’s still avoiding looking directly at the kid. 

It’s pretty silly, how anxious he’s getting over something as dumb and simple as this. But, boy. He just genuinely doesn’t want people to not like him, and first impressions are typically hugely important. Especially when it comes to someone who’s supposed to be family for the next two years of his life. 

Maybe not making direct eye contact isn’t the best option if he wishes to make a good first impression, but Nico is so incapable of making friends that he doesn’t already have. He’s fifty years old, how is he supposed to relate and befriend an actual fifteen year old? ‘Hello fellow cool, young kid. Are you interested in speaking of memes and bands that existed before you were born?’? So, instead of being sociable in a normal way, he just talks about how big his closet is and stands by the entrance of the room, stiff and awkward. At least he’s smiling? 

[exquisite-blackness-deactivated]

Nicole Beharie