Dove Aldrich

KING HIT. Guitarist. Artist. Born October 31st, 1994. All Hallows Child, hear me play, hear me scream, but you'll never hear me cry.

[dovealdrich]

Name: Dove Aldrich

Pronouns: She/Her

Date of Birth: October 31st, 1994

Neighborhood: Downtown

Occupation: Guitarist for King Hit (indie band)

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual  

Positives: honest, observant, adaptable

Negatives: ruthless, blunt, feral  

Highlights:

Dove is a hot head, all bark all bite

In an eat or be eaten world, she’s feasting

Dark humor is her specialty

Honest to the point of being blunt

Angry drunk

Primary emotion is betrayal

Okay with uncomfortable silences

Can’t be tell if she’s being serious or not

Good at drawing

Guitarist - will protect her guitar with her life

Has a black cat named Salem; ninja cat

Full Biography:

On October 31st, 1994 Mr. and Mrs. Aldrich gave birth to a set of twins: Dove and Delphine. At age four, Delphine was brushing the hair of her Barbie dolls and Dove was biting their heads off. At age six, Delphine was sharing the stickers off her lunchbox and Dove was chasing her classmates around with a stick. By age 12, Delphine had her first boyfriend and Dove was finding it difficult to make a friend. It wasn't that their parents hadn't made an effort with the both of them. Dove and Delphine came from humble beginnings, the twins nestling their home in the worst part of town, but their parents always tried their best to give them what they could. Where it came easy with Delphine, it was difficult with Dove. The twins couldn't be further apart, an exemplary trait that took root on their birthdays. Where Delphine wanted pink balloons, a large strawberry cake, and a party for all of her friends, Dove wanted chocolate cake and blood and gore on Halloween night.

By the time they turned 18, the twins went two separate ways. Delphine met a guy who she fell heads over heels for and Dove went to a four year university, major undeclared. Her time in university was a short lived tale. It was in high school where she picked up her passion for music, but in college was where it really flourished. Dove would practice in the courtyard, praised in the way she never felt in her youth, but by the time she had decided her major, Delphine would call and beg for a savior. Dropping out was never her intent; it was meant to be a quick run: to deal with her sisters boyfriend and return for her Calculus test Monday morning. The weekend trip dragged on for three months, and by the time it was over, Dove was too far behind on her studies to ever return.

Too far in debt with no backup plan, Dove to a bus to New York and sold herself to a band that was hiring. The thrill of the stage great while it lasted, but she had a talent and her bandmates did not. They got her started, enough to get her settled, in a closet sized apartment in the best side of the city. She lived off scraps, but fought for what she wanted. It was an eat or be eaten world, and Dove always had a bite. She met both beautiful and ugly people, faces she'd forget, but one took her out to Paris and later LA, where she scrambled up her things, and moved on to the next city. LA was a sunshine nightmare for a girl dressed in black, but it was there she made her footing, finding the band that would forever stick.

King Hit's success was better than anything she could have wanted from a four year university. They toured from state to state, writing lyrics on the road between. Dove thrived on stage, the admiration fuel to her fire. As their tour settled down and their first album released, Dove found herself happy in the small family they had created. As their time on the road came to an end, they settled into Costa Del Sol to settle their next album. A small town was just what they needed to slip away from their adoring fans, tucked in the corners of Washington state. To Dove, it feels like deja vu, the town similar to their family home just outside of Philadelphia. She calls her parents twice a week, but settles into the downtown to remind her of the city.

[obriy]

ZENDAYA Bvlgari’s Magnifica - Behind The Scenes

[dovealdrich]

Location: Daddy’s For: @len-covello​

Her intention is obvious. She’s out for blood. One of a tall, dark haired broad man in this case, her need to sink her teeth in flesh growing with each passing minute. She taps impatiently on the bar counter, her fist curled around the uniform of the unlucky bartender that operated the early shift and had the misfortune to inform Dove that he wasn’t around. “Where the fuck is he,” she mutters to herself, releasing the boy with a huff and joining the VIP section instead. This early at Daddy’s, the VIP section nearly empty, save a few straggling bottle girls who lounged about while they waited to spray champagne over their tits and pocket the tips that followed. Her source of entertainment would be found in one of those, a dark haired vixen that would normally irk her to see, but feeling anything, even irritation, was better than being numb. She slides into the booth, long legs propped up to the other side of the seat where she sat. “Did you use it yet?” 

[dovealdrich]

━━━━━━━ 𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐒 ✘ 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐒

[len-covello]

dovealdrich​:

Dove rolls her eyes. “Your friend,” she says, gesturing towards the other bartender, but fans off the thought. It didn’t matter. She takes the shot instead and drowns the thought in the amber liquor. “I hate your guts,” she says, her shot glass faced down as she presses it to the table. She pushes it forward like a bishop in a match. “You’re reckless, callous, and greedy. You almost ruined everything for me. There’s not much I like about you, let alone love,” she says, eyes on the other girl. And yet. “Makes for the best sex,” she says, her hand pulling away from the shot glass. There was nothing like seeing the looking into the hate of someones eye when their hands were wrapped around her neck, when resentment and devotion collide. She sighs and lifts her hand. She wonders if she could do that to Nik. “No more,” she says, pulling her bag around her shoulder. “Open a tab under King Hit,” she says. “This won’t be the last time.” 

.

You’re reckless, callous, and greedy. She hardly flinched, as she knew it was true. Do you blame the starving man for the two fisted way they feed themselves bread? The drowning for the white-knuckled grip on anything that floats atop the water? Everything, everyone, is only ever trying to survive. Len met Dove’s eyes, holding the flintiness of them, and marvelled at the way her anger was a lit match that burned and burned. Her own mouth stung with the heat of her, the scorch she left in her wake. Do you think this is noble? Your self-immolation, your lungs black with smoke? “Keep bringing up fucking me, and I’m gonna believe you’re falling in love,” she finally said, turning to attend to another patron, giving the woman space to leave. “You’re rabid Aldrich. Don’t come back,” Len called as her goodbye, sweeping the shot glass with the shatter of broken glass into the pit and valley of the steel sink.

[dovealdrich]

laurence-mercer​:

Such humility does play to his melodies, a sweetness falling from lips that rarely knew the taste. Dove begs and it only fuels him, broadens his smile. Once they beg, Laurie knows he’s won. “Happily,” he agrees, and he shoves her down to do as he’s bid. 

There is nothing tender in Laurie’s touch, no reverence laid upon skin through his lips or honeyed word. All that’s shared between them is teeth and nails and angry hands, tearing at each other breathlessly. It’s a shared violence, hungry and instinctive, a carnal merge of him and her. This is Fucking in it’s most primal nature - a blinding act that is warm but far from soft, deafening the world through pounding palms.  He finishes and feels the world drum back, reality welcomed by the taste of blood on his tongue and a red cheeked guitarist sprawled half-balanced on his neck. His hand releases off her throat and he smiles, chuckling with a huffing breath.  “Satisfied?” he exhales, brow lifted in an arrogant smirk.

-

She’s bruised and sore in the best sort of way. The destruction she’s left is evident around her, scattered across the office room floor. She settles back onto her feet, cleans herself off and collects her things. “Don’t you know Laurie? I’m insatiable,” she says, though is on her route towards the door. She looks back at him before she does, entire figure facing the male. “Left my number on your desk,” she says, gestures her chin where she’d written it with marker. The corners of her lip twitches upward, knowing it’d enrage him. “Call me next time you need to blow off some steam.”

[dovealdrich]

stellamcnroe​:

“  𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐒  –––––  lonely  .  ”  stella  craves  the  company  of  people  ,  whether  physically  or  emotionally  .  sure  she  can  handle  being  alone  but  life  is  always  so  much  more  enjoyable  with  someone  by  her  side  .  having  dove  move  out  left  a  bit  of  a  hole  in  the  apartment  ,  having  grown  accustomed  to  the  guitar  late  at  night  and  even  the  morning  grumpiness  .  but  she  couldn’t  be  happier  her  friend  found  a  perfect  situation  ,  even  if  for  her  own  ears  it  sounds  a  little  less  than  perfect  .  “  cheers  to  a  free  room  and  a  sexy  man  who  occasionally  makes  an  appearance  ,  ”  stella  says  with  a  clink  of  her  glass  against  dove’s  .  she  savors  a  quick  sip  of  her  own  vodka  lemonade  ,  lips  puckering  subtly  at  the  sourness  of  the  lemonade  before  smiling  .  “  catch  me  up  on  your  escapades  from  the  full  moon  party  ,  i  feel  like  i  barely  saw  you  .  ”

-

Dove lifts her shoulders. “It’s not so bad,” she says, toying with the drink presented out in front of her. “I’m good on my own,” she insists, despite not remembering the last time she’d been left alone. “It’s the quiet that fucks me,” she says, though lifts her drink to cheer with her friend. Dove drowns her lies with her liquor and slips into the next conversation like slipping into an old pair of sneakers: familiar, comfortable, and even if it’s a little worn out, it’s exactly as you’d expect it. “Well we played. Hung out with Nik for a bit. Got high with Rain. Conned some people out of their money. Used it for drinks. Got into a disagreement about...” She hesitates, shaking her head. “I forgot what. Pretty usual,” she summarizes. “Didn’t see Gabe much though. How’s things with him?” 

[hunterschafer]

Detective Bennet.

[dovealdrich]

len-covello​:

Len didn’t have the time to step back, her eyes widening for a moment, shiny with the fear that this might be the first time that she would feel the impact of a fist against her flesh, Aldrich determined to hit her until she knocked something loose. What happened next was violent in its unfurling, Dove’s mouth tastes like hunger and want, smokey with cigarettes and sour with alcohol. When they part her hipbones feel as bruised as her lips, slammed against the heavy wood of the bar, and she reels in the space that settles between them, dazed like some gentle forest creature staring down the long expanse of a dark highway— no, like an animal staring down the barrel of a gun. “Did you just admit to having mono?” Len finally said, busying her hands with filling the barked order, pouring the glass a little over half. “Weird brag.” She plopped an ice cube into the glass as an afterthought, the impact of it against the amber lake creating little ripples, microscopic tsunamis that lapped against the sides of it. “So, you’re like, in love with me,” she began, a shit-eating grin working onto her features as the surprise melted away. Passion and anger sometimes taste the same. “Mum always said you get treated terribly when someone has a shitty little crush on you, but that always felt a bit toxic. Guess it’s true.”

-

Dove rolls her eyes. “Your friend,” she says, gesturing towards the other bartender, but fans off the thought. It didn’t matter. She takes the shot instead and drowns the thought in the amber liquor. “I hate your guts,” she says, her shot glass faced down as she presses it to the table. She pushes it forward like a bishop in a match. “You’re reckless, callous, and greedy. You almost ruined everything for me. There’s not much I like about you, let alone love,” she says, eyes on the other girl. And yet. “Makes for the best sex,” she says, her hand pulling away from the shot glass. There was nothing like seeing the looking into the hate of someones eye when their hands were wrapped around her neck, when resentment and devotion collide. She sighs and lifts her hand. She wonders if she could do that to Nik. “No more,” she says, pulling her bag around her shoulder. “Open a tab under King Hit,” she says. “This won’t be the last time.” 

[zedayacoleman]

[incorrectpeterparker]

Peter: I don’t understand, I’m intimidating.

MJ, not even looking up from her book: If you’re intimidating, I must have a will to live.

Ned: ... Do you want some help?

[dovealdrich]

laurence-mercer​:

For a slight little willowed thing, Dove hits hard. Her palm connects with his cheek and that familiar red no longer bleeds into his vision, it blinds him, a bull charging forward with a played rage. Her top is nothing to him, ripped away with a flexed hand, pulling away from her teeth to rip the clothing away. “You want it, you got it,” he hisses, pulling her by the curls so she faces him only to backhand a caramel cheek. There’s a fire in Laurie’s gaze tainted by hunger, tossing leftover work off his desk as he pinions the waif to oak, his hand at the base of her jaw. “Does it feel real, Dove?”  Thumb and finger slip, his hand large against her neck and knowledgeable where he presses, gaze sharp and focused on her. He wonders if she remembers the signals, nearly a decade old, but he watches like he hates her and tightens his grip. 

-

Pain jolts her senses awake. There’s a grin on her lips, but her words get caught in her throat when seized by him. She smiles at him with an evil look in her eye. “Harder,” she demands, and again when he obeys, until there’s barely any breath left to pass through her lungs. She pulls at his shirt, a button torn in her haste, bouncing off the shelf on the wall. Her hands are on his chest, pulling for his back, drawing him closer. “Fuck me,” she begs with what voice she can utter, kicking off her shoes with the edge of the oak. 

[dovealdrich]

laurence-mercer​:

They live in old memories, hazed by blackouts and other drugs, but Dove has shoved him into the past as quickly as she does his things. Once they had been atomic, touching each other with more brutality than reverence, leaving a destroyed hotel room in their wake.  He’d paid for the head board readily and, when his week was up, he found himself wondering more on how someone as vanilla as his cousin had manage to pocket her chaos, to stifle it till then. Unfettered, Laurie had found Dove te perfect vessel, searing through his monotonous haze and stamping her goodbye with bruises.

She throws his order to the wind, scattering pens and bills, breaking a paperweight as it all goes clattering and crashing against a stone floor. He flares to life, hating her, jutting forward to grasp the back of her head by the hair, pulling her in near flush with his chest. His smile is more teeth than grin, gaze searing as he shoves her forward against the wooden desk.  “You’re a fucking menace. ” he growls, angry that she’s goaded him and angrier that it’s worked, gripping her waist tight with an angry hand. One armed, he swings her up and graceless onto the table, caging her with his body. “Those knuckles are still bleeding and you’re here picking a real fight.” He expected no less, letting his hands dig into her skin, waiting for her to throw him over the edge.

-

His hands summon a moan, his words a grin. Dove sits on the border where fervor meets twilight, where all vile and wicked thoughts` crawl out from the shadows they rest, and each salacious desire fills the cracks of the gray space that occupies the space between right and wrong. She smacks him hard across the cheek. Her palm stung, deep red where blood gathered, and her knuckles ached at the motion, but she does it again when he looks at her again, eyes of red, hot fury that she dares to challenge. “What makes you think you can put up a real fight,” she asks, her hand in his hair, pulling his head back. Her lips are against his neck, teeth against bare flesh. She’s reminded of a lion, the way they tore the flesh out from the neck of their prey, but Laurie is no helpless deer and Dove had left it bruised with her kiss. Teeth graze against the lobe of his ear. She’d do anything to make him whimper, to make her tremble. “What makes you think you’ve got a chance,” she whispers in his ear. 

[dovealdrich]

len-covello​:

“There’s always room at the inn, Mary. If you’re jealous, I’d prefer you just try to kiss me.” The girl took aim and fired, aiming for a messy wound, something studded with shrapnel and the drip of hot, fresh blood. Dove, who could be beautiful if it wasn’t for that horrible streak— those sharp teeth that longed to bite, eyes staying cruel and hard. Fallen angels still had grace left, so Len couldn’t even liken her to one of those, she was something with the divinity scorched away, a charred body with an ember for a mouth. “Ricky scoops the cherries out of the bucket with his fingers, so you probably just chewed and swallowed a staph infection,” she bit back, teeth sinking into her tongue to keep her tone from growing too pointed, unwilling to let it rise above a hiss. “Do you think that you matter so much, Aldrich?” Len asked, her voice falling lower, cheeks hollow. “Who the fuck would want to hold you? This city euthanizes pit bulls everyday. You’d be just another dead bitch with a bite record.”

-

Her anger is switch, like a flick of a lighter that sparked an amber flame. It devoured her inside, an inferno that consumed, accelerated by the whiskey that flowed through her veins. She’s on her feet faster than she can comprehend, cat like reflexes driving her forward. Her hand curled around the jet black hair of her adversary, slamming her against the bar, towards her. The glass shakes from under the bar and the second bartender stares at them startled. She leans against the counter, over the solid wood keeping them apart and brings her lips to hers. She tastes like shitty tequila and the thought reminds her of home. She hates her even more for it, even as she lets her go. “Enjoy the mono,” she says as she releases the clump of hair she held onto, and settles back into her seat. Dove slides the glass back towards the bar. “Pour.”

[dovealdrich]

nikmoreau​:

“I thought you were going to compare them to my hands,” she lifts one up, inked and adorned with seven different gold rings. “Then I would’ve been obliged to say, it’s not the size that matters, it’s how you use it. But let’s not add ammo to the micro dick community. They’re already vocal enough. Speaking of,” they reach the bar and Nik peers out at the crowd. “I’ve seen Stas. What dark corner are the boys lurking in?”

-

“Rain’s somewhere getting as high as the moon and Gabe’s probably off somewhere getting his dick sucked by some bimbo with fat lips,” she guessed with a gentle shrug. “They’ll show up,” she said, knowing, despite it all, they always delivered when it counted. Settling in front of the concession stand, Dove reached for one of the bracelets, pulling the ends apart and wrapping it around the other girls neck. “See what I mean?”

[dovealdrich]

op literally looks like she would godmod kill me then spit on my body but i would say thank u jesus amen but go off i guess

[dovealdrich]

op literally trying to make poor anger management a personality but go off i guess