The Jailbird

"I'm Darren. You don't really need to know much else." DOB: 1995.12.10 Origin: Hopeview, NY CRIME: Assault & Battery INCARCERATED TERM: 6 — 11 years STATUS: Released on parole

[lost-lovett]

He looked over his shoulder to the unfamiliar face, his drink uncomfortably in his hand. The party lights and the half-moon glittered over the two of them, the crowd pulsing in front of them, chit-chatting about the latest news or just dancing their asses off. He didn't really care for these parties, they were gluttonous and self-indulgent. Yet here he was, again. He’d much rather go back home and go to sleep, or listen to a record, or sip hot chocolate… or look at his family members’ faces. He looked at the stranger and spoke, in a precise, crisp, nearly cruel tone, “I really hope you’re having a better time than me. If you aren't, do something responsible and get out.

[drivearoundtunes]

Visit Original Link

[lost-lovett]

all eyes // imagine dragons

now will the sun come up tonight? because your eyes, they burn so bright

[bette-kill]

With a small snort, Bette shook her head. “God, if you did, then this would be the part where I laugh hysterically for about seven minutes, then explain to you that unless you have a vagina along with that beard, you’re not my type.” She smiled, more amused than offended by the entire ordeal. This was a party, after all, and Bette was too high strung lately. She needed to enjoy herself, and not ripping this guy a new asshole for entertainment was a good place to start. “Pity,” she said without any remorse in her voice. “Me neither, don’t worry. Though I might just light myself on fire anyway.”

[lost-lovett]

"You make me feel like lady." Darren snorted back, shaking away the image of him dressed like a girl. He was no fucking prag. Darren finally turned around to look at the girl he's been talking to and say something that might come out more like an insult than a joke, but came to an abrupt halt when he saw it was Bette Kill next to him, relaxed and watching him with those light brown orbs. The beautiful Bette Kill. The infamous Bette Kill. Darren had to bite his own tongue to keep from gasping. A lifetime of teenage hormones, unrealistic fantasies, and memories of witnessing her methodically cut up people with her words returned almost immediately. For the first time since his homecoming, Darren felt like the nervous little kid he used to be. And it took everything he had to bury those feelings. "Setting yourself on fire still won't change the fact you're a little too old for this party." Darren scolded, smiling lightly.

[maxthieriot]

Mother?

[lost-lovett]

Some Insight 1/?

Basic Information

Full Name: Darren Dancy Lovett Nickname/Alias(s): Lovett, Psycho, Dancy (rare) Title: The Jailbird Age: Nineteen Date of Birth: December 10th, 1995 Astrological Sign: Capricorn Hometown: Hopeview, New York Family Members: Bernard Lovett (Father - catatonic). Melisandre Lovett (Aunt). Mary-Lynette Clark (Mother - estranged). Religion: Believes in a higher power Occupation: Unemployed Sexuality: Heterosexual Relationship Status: Single Power(s): N/A, can beat people two or three times his size almost to death if angry enough.

Physical

Coloring: Pale with beige undertones Hair Color: Sandy blonde Eye Color: Cerulean blue Height: 6’0” Weight: 192 lbs Build: Tall and Broad. Quite muscled. Dominant Hand: Right Piercing(s): None Scar(s): Many from his childhood and youth; a thin stripe reminiscent of a cut on his jaw that never healed quite right; a few larger ones from prison-related incidents. Tattoo(s): Two: one on his right arm, and another near the back of his neck.

Psychological

Dreams/Goals: To understand what made him snap that night, to be able to leave the abusive memories behind him, to discover his passions, and to find a place or a person with whom he belongs. Skills: Secret keeping, fighting styles, memorization, paying attention to details, survival, analyzing books. Good Habits: Noticing when people aren't in the good place, constantly takes notes of his surroundings, keeps in mind who has wronged him and who hasn’t, closed off when it comes to other people’s feelings but gives honest opinions based on his own experience. Bad Habits: Shutting out the rest of the world, internalizing stress and hurt feelings, doesn’t always speak clearly, biting his lips, not always sticking up for himself, untentionally being cruel to others. Hobbies: Reading, black and white movies, drawing, crafting, writing, watching television. Likes: Rainy and cold weather, girls, Bette Kill, smell of pine trees, Gravity Falls, being self-sufficient, non-prison food, people-watching. Dislikes: Abusive or neglectful parents, plastic spoons that snap, people who blame him without knowing him, closed spaces, Fairly Odd Parents, rudeness, being outsmarted/humiliated. Turn-Ons: Intelligence, honesty, finally kissing a girl, someone with the ability to make him smile always, talkative, outgoing, sense of humor, perseverance. Turn-Offs: Feeling powerless, feeling weak, utter subordination, condescension, treating him like he’s the bad guy, excessive cockiness where it’s unwarranted. Fears: His family. To be hurt again, to be manipulated, to be weak like his mother, to go back to prison, dying slowly and painfully, the people he will trust doubt or turn on him, being alone, what his mother would think of her son. Comforts: Silent spaces where he can think without being interrupted, Bette Kill naked, Saturdays, being in control, the thought of falling asleep next to someone, the knowledge that he will never, ever be someone else’s victim. Positives: Observant, independent, intuitive, empathetic Negatives: Blunt, aggressive, unforgiving, lonely Alignment: Neutral Good

Favorites

Food: Pizza, hamburgers, anything that isn't from prison Drink: Lemonade Candy: Snickers Color: Silver Season: Autumn Memory: Seeing his mother being hit by his father Band/Artist: Imagine Dragons, Haim, Marvin Gaye, The Beatles, Metric Inspiration: Hear Me by Imagine Dragons (x)

[lost-lovett]

Rough night?

You look like hell.

[bette-kill]

Bette raised an eyebrow, truly amused at the label her company had given her mere conversation starter. “Trust me, if I were picking you up, you wouldn’t have time to think whether or not I made it up. Just trying to gauge how much attention I need to dedicate to your safety. Not that it would vary much, anyway.” She finally tore her gaze from the flames to size up the other person, tipping her head slightly. “And I certainly wouldn’t try my hand on you, hon. You’re not exactly my…type.”

[lost-lovett]

A raucous laugh rumbled low in his chest as he shook his head, the action eliciting unamused, dissatisfied looks from the group of drunks gathered near by. "Is this the part when I'm supposed to say I'm everybody's type?" What made it so funny to him was that he hadn't planned to hook up tonight. Shit, he didn't have any plan. Just show up, that was the plan. Anywho, if a pretty girl ever made a pass at him, yeah, maybe, but he wasn't going to hunt anyone down or some bullshit like that. Not to mention he still held the...V card. Surprise surprise, Darren was still a virgin. Big deal. "Anyway, sorry to keep you from feeding your obvious hero syndrome, but I'm wasted in the slightest." He sighed, using his hand to slowly comb his hair.

[musicistheconstant-deactivated2]

Visit Original Link

[lost-lovett]

I Just Wanna Run - The Downtown Fiction

"I just wanna run, hide it away Run because they're chasing me down I just wanna run, throw it away Run before they're finding me out I Just wanna run"

[bette-kill]

Careful not to alienate herself too much, Bette gravitated towards a roaring bonfire close to the water, thankful for the warmth. It was cold and gusty, not entirely ideal weather for a party, but she sucked it up and stood close, watching the flames dance until she glanced up to see a figure near her. “You’re not shitfaced, right? Pulling you out of the flames is not my idea of a cherry on top of this night. Not that it wouldn’t be a fantastic story later…”

[lost-lovett]

This was a terrible idea. This was a terrible idea and he still showed up. What did he have in common with these people, anyway? Age? Mostly. Right now he was seeing high school seniors when he was young dirty dance with the kids that weren't even in elementary school back then. That's where the similarities ended, and he was thankful. People didn't like him, he didn't like them either. People thought he was crazy, and Darren sometimes gave them a reason to keep thinking so. Part of his problem was holding shit in until he couldn't any longer, and everyone saw what he truly was. He was fucking angry. Besides, he's devoutly against drinking alcohol. He has too much history with the substance. Keeping warm by the fire, Darren was in his own thoughts when a woman brought him back to reality. Able to see her in his peripheral vision, he didn't break his concentration on the fire. "Did you make that pick-up line up all by yourself?" Sarcasm: the last refuge of modest and chaste-souled people when the privacy of their soul is coarsely and intrusively invaded.

[divinewhimsrp]

"If you’re going to make such terrible guesses maybe you shouldn’t guess at all."

[lost-lovett]

"Gladly."

[lost-lovett]

A Trust Fall || Delia & Darren

[delia--vance]

Eyes narrowed, teeth grit, her body tensed as she glared fiercely at the man before her. Broke? The word was a stinging slap on her skin. Cordelia Vance was not broke, she was stupid at best. “I’m not hurting for money, asshole. I just didn’t pay attention. Are you going to fucking heckle me or are you going to be a slightly decent person and just give me a goddamned ride home?” Being so sensitive to everything lately, Delia just felt like this was another tick of the time bomb within her body; just drawing closer and closer to the inevitable explosion once more. He was patronising her. That much she was sure of. He couldn’t honestly be so idiotic to think that it was socially acceptable to say such things to people, then again in the back of her mind a voice said that he didn’t grow up the way she had. Delia could remember seeing him. They were in the same grade until that fated day that sent him off while she stayed in their hometown. She’d never been friends with him. She remembered laughing with Kingston about the weird kid that always stared too long and didn’t have anyone else really, the kid that she wouldn’t be caught dead talking to just because her best friend told her he was loser. It was all so shallow that it sickened her slightly, but pride would keep the brunette from ever admitting that she regretted being such a follower. Thanks to Kingston, she’d hurt people. Even now she as hurting people because of him including herself.

Though, in the moment, those thoughts were irrelevant. All that mattered was that she just wanted to get out of the middle of the road and into a warm bed. Any warm bed honestly. “I don’t have anything I care about in there.” She muttered, climbing into the car once it’d swung around. Her slender body settled easily into the seat and she cast another disdainful look at her car before it started to drift from her sight.

Licking her lips, Delia shifted in the seat. This was uncomfortable. She didn’t like Darren. She didn’t know him. Most of all, really, she didn’t trust him. Possibly anyone would have been better to find her. He was just as weird as she remembered him to be, but the added fact that this guy had almost killed someone made her hesitant to even move. He seemed gentle enough though which was the part that confused her. Quite frankly, he seemed a bit dumb. It was a perplexing combination. People in the small town talked and how could someone from the stories she had her, stories that were true though embellished, be so disappointing in real life. She wasn’t the type to seek a thrill or a dangerous situation. No, Delia was more practical than that, but she had been hoping with a person like Darren that he would have at least had an anger issue or a complex or a chip on his shoulder the size of Anguilla.

“What’s your fucking deal?” Blunt. To the point. People never expected it from a girl that did everything right, but focusing on her social skills hadn’t ever been a priority for Cordelia. She said what was on her mind and often without filter and many swears. “Like, what are you? You’re so… weird.” A normal person would have said thank you or in some way showed gratitude. While she didn’t act like she was owed anything by him, she certainly wasn’t being gracious. He didn’t have to drive her anywhere. “You’re like not at all what I was expecting for someone who tried to kill their own dad. Like shouldn’t you be all angry and juiced up like those guys on prison shows? You’re like literally the same kid that sat with one kid at lunch tables and was picked last that I saw in middle school.”

[lost-lovett]

If he felt threatened at all by the fact that she was demanding to know what his deal was, or possibly her questions from out of nowhere, then Darren didn't broadcast it. His shoulders and arms were relaxed and there was nothing especially guarded or upset lingering in his face. His mind on the people of Hopeview (the stupidest goddamn name for a town in his opinion) was made a long time ago, and Delia Vance was no exception. The only ones his jaded aloofness might spare were Frankie and Better. Frankie's friendship was a necessary evil, and beggars can't be choosers. Bette Kill was also cool—scratch that, she was the coolest—but he wouldn't last five minutes in a conversation with her right now. She had her whole life going for her, and he had nothing. He had a good idea on where to get started, but he was stilling filling out the blanks. But even though Delia was meaningless to him, Darren was a little glad she decided to speak up. It was better for her to clear the air than watch her throw glances at him, or open and close her mouth like a goldfish, or sit in his passenger seat like it was made of needles.

She was giving him something to focus on—allowing him to project his rage onto her instead of himself. It wasn't going to be easy, but he could fool with her, just like he did back at the yachts. "I appreciate your concern, but that's none of your business." Distant. Leveled. Unfocused. He was too busy focusing on the sky that had started to darken, faintly lit by stars becoming visible against the gradually blackening road. The moon stirred feebly behind the trees but failed to brighten anything, leaving the car's headlights to illuminate the the shadowy area. "Humor me, though. Tell me what you're expectations are of me." Obviously psychotic, irrational, so constricted looking that it looked like his limbs might snap off it he moved them too fast. But what she expected from his outward demeanor was pretty accurate on the inside. Darren was angry, in fact he was furious. Darren was born into a world that wasn't interested in having him. His mother was a selfish coward who ran all the way across the country and left her five-year-old behind with her abusive husband.

Perhaps the worst age she could have left; old enough to remember her face, young enough to wonder what he'd done wrong to drive her away. Enough to be scarred by it for the rest of his life. If wounds on a soul could be as easily seen as the crusted marks on skinned elbows, then Darren's soul would be a mosaic of fresh cuts and raw skin. Because with no wife to beat on or drag back and punish, that thing he once called Dad focused his binge-drinking beatings on him. And his aunt who kept him arm's distance showed him what family love was, but never took the extra step to get her nephew away from her son-of-a-bitch brother. So for years he was kicked when he was down, he was beaten until he broke, tormented by family and peers, and with years and years of tolerance he finally snapped. He couldn't hold back anymore and everything that had bottled up inside came out. He was never the same boy again.

[declanreese-deactivated20140906]

What’s wrong with 80’s movies? They’re funny. And there’s got to be a freshman who’s desperate enough for booze to write an essay for it.

[lost-lovett]

Never said they weren't. Didn't you hear me say funny? And if that's the case, take advantage of the miserable bastards. They probably deserve it.

[cait-murray]

"Cait, jus’ Cait. I don’t know where you get the idea I say fuckin’ lot. Not saying I don’t, but you don’t know me from Eve."

[lost-lovett]

"That's why I said probably, duh. Besides, your bakery makes abominable baby cakes, has the word bitch in it, and you just said it."

[delia--vance]

"God, you’re like not even the slightest bit witty or clever and this honestly is making me want to claw my skin off. Leave me alone. You’re so fucking weird."

[lost-lovett]

"Word of advice: start thinking hard about what you're presented with, or else you'll be consistently surprised when an event or person or place isn't as friendly as it appears to be. Have a fun day."

[siagiovanni]

"A fucked up newspaper headline; don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what that looks like."

[lost-lovett]

"It's a bunch of rolled up papers talking about how fun and family safe this goddamn town is. So skip the shit and just tell me what the hell they're talking about, please."

[declanreese-deactivated20140906]

Seventy bucks? Bullshit. I’ll get a freshman to do it for me, it doesn’t even have to be good.

[lost-lovett]

Good luck, 'cause you're gonna need it. Freshmen aren't desperate retards like in a funny 80's movie.

[delia--vance]

"Are you keeping track of how much sex I have? Sounds like you’re the one with the abnormal sexual desires. On a scale of you’re a to virgin how many girls has this worked on? Oh, wait. I forgot. The last time you actually really saw a girl that wasn’t in uniform was when you were thirteen. It would take a hell of a lot of alcohol and a lot of lost sanity for anything about you to get me going.”

[lost-lovett]

"I guess you're a virgin if you're saying something like that. I'm not judging you, for the record. I'm curious how this went from the goddamn Beach Boys to which of us is thinking about fucking who."