Roxas Farrah Marx

SURFER☼TWENTY-ONE☼MOTHER☼SOCAL Seafront settled and a surfer through and through; she’s a self-made Californian with a taste for Tennessee Honey and a hankering for boys who collect girls' hearts. With her and her fiance Axel Christ's record shop beneath their apartment, Roxas spends most of her days running the establishment while taking care of her infant son and rabbits. K. Hearts AU Roxas

[nesciret]

[nesciret]

      Just kind of casually braids her hair.     It’s not like he’s missed her or anything.

[o2hh2o]

          Pleasantly surprised by the hair touching, Roxas sank over her knees like a drifting leaf and settled her cheek on her folded arms. She suddenly furrowed her brow and offered Vanitas an apologetic pout to buffer her next sentence. "Long time, no talk? Are we accepting apologies from girls with long, pretty hair or do I have to earn that?"

[killerxkyle]

[o2hh2o]

[SUCH A PRETTY LADY ROXAAAAS!]

Ahh. Thank you! I’m so flattered you think she’s pretty. I really haven't been active enough to deserve any praise for her.

[hannahsageyoung]

[saltsurfnyc]

[hannughunt]

[o2hh2o]

ＣＨＩＬＤＨＯＯＤ

           Late autumn in New York City was not like California's by a long shot, but Roxas wasn't complaining about the dissonance that coincided with the by-chance dislocation. She was there solely to take a couple of pictures for a Famous Somethin-Somethin, who she'd never heard of but was apparently the new it photographer, and then possibly head back home to Sunny Side, USA. That is, if she could will herself to go back. Ever since obliterating her engagement with Axel Christ she'd felt the ceaseless weight of shame and guilt, and she couldn't figure out how to begin again after becoming the disappointment.            Seated at wooden table in the heart of the Upper East Side, Roxas trailed her fingertip along the edge of a coffee mug and realized she wasn't even conscious of her silence. It was the season for black clothing and loop scarves, which was how she'd dressed that morning. Black leather leggings beneath a black v-neck sweater accented by black Christian Louboutin boots that made nice with her thighs and then finally a peacoat that swaddled her heat accustomed torso. The rain reminded her of home.            Home -- when she said that word it resonated with her son and would-be husband, but there was also Oregon, the lake and then Sora. That secondary definition was why she'd spent so many years like a sealed clam, waiting on the opportune moment to break her silence, but it'd never come. At least, not until right then while seated directly across from Roxas Knight who not only shared her namesake but a tiring penchant for sadness she was certain made him hate himself as much as it made her hate herself.             "I'm from northern Oregon," but Knight knew that much. "Small Town, USA -- you wouldn't know the town even if I told you." She tilted her head to the side, and that cutesy bubblegum voice was gone. Instead there was a tired crispness, and it was shockingly adult. "I don't know where to begin except... Mn, I didn't move to California by much choice. I was an eighteen-year-old runaway who'd never been to a city or smoked a blunt before meeting our beach friends. I got here by hopping into cabins with truckers and praying one wouldn't rape me, and if he did, then maybe he'd let me live long enough to get me where I needed to me." 

           That was a starting point. Marx ran her fingers through her cowlick, and her expressions all at once mirrored Axel Christ's in the way anger spread from her furrowed eyebrows and then released like an onslaught of seeping pain on into the relaxing muscles of her face. "I gave up a dual academic and cheerleading scholarship my parents probably wouldn't have let me use anyway to make it to South Beach, and maybe that's where I should start. My parents -- " All at once visions of murdering her mother caused her to nervously drum her fingers along the table, her gel tips distinctly clacking, and Roxas hadn't realized she was yet to give Knight eye contact. "My grandparents don't know how he did it, but my dad basically lured my mom into a psuedo-Christian cult allocated in a woodland surrounded suburbia. My childhood home was beautiful, Knight. If everything else about it wasn't so ugly, then I'd want you to see it."             Marx suddenly flashed a smile. "I have a twin. Or well, I did. His name was Sora, and we were fraternal. He looked way more like my dad." But the smile drifted and she softly inhaled before continuing. "Anyway -- my childhood was flawless; perfect pink bedroom, gymnastic practices, trendy clothes, a bunch of friends. It was dinner on the table by 6 PM and church every single Sunday and Wednesday whether I was ill or not. Until puberty, everything was a real slice of apple pie. I honestly couldn't want more for my own children... I mean..." And her dry laughter floated between them. "...it was just that perfect."

[o2hh2o]

Reblog if you're willing to roleplay the following subjects:

Blood Cannibalism Domestic Violence Gore Incest Mental Issues Murder Rape  Suicide Torture Violence in General War

[d4y5]

Matrimonio.

“Aren’t all chocolates the same, babe?” He asked while tasting yet another flavor of chocolate. He knew there were white chocolate, regular chocolate, and dark chocolate… but all the flavors he had tasted so far were all the same. He didn’t mind, however, but he did want to figure out what flavor they were going to have for their wedding.

The wedding was soon. It could be seen from their horizon, now, and it was approaching fast. Axel was nervous, but not to the degree where he’d get a case of cold feet. The nervousness was mostly from excitement because he was ready to marry Roxas. He had been ready for a long, long time. Their son was tugging at his pant leg, and he assumed he was tired of seeing all the colorful things in the cake shop. He lifted him up onto his lap and watched him reach for a piece of cake sample. Axel shook his head, but ended up picking off a small piece for Abraxas and patted his bright red head. “I like the red velvet,” He told Roxas and watched their son start making grabby hands at her. He handed him over to Roxas and kissed the top of his head and then Roxas’ cheek. “I don’t know. What are you thinking? Think about what flavor of cake you want me to mush against your face.” He started to chuckle.

They had been engaged for quite a while, and the proposal had happened on accident somewhat. It was a surprise for him and Marx, but not so much for their friends who had forgotten they weren’t engaged already. Now they had their son and Axel had met Roxas’ grandparents, and everything was coming together. Axel didn’t think he would ever get to have a chance to do something like this, and he was happy he was going to do this with Marx. She seemed downright excited, and he knew that having a wedding in the summer would be appropriate for both of them. This way he could take her away on their honeymoon and she could surf to her heart’s content– when they weren’t rolling around naked, of course. He knew he would have a tan line in the shape of Marx on his chest. The thought alone made him laugh to himself. “Mm, what were you saying, bonita?” He asked but in a dreamy like tone because he was so caught up in his thoughts. 

Axel caught a glance outside the window and saw some girls smiling and giggling at them, and probably thought they were simply adorable. A mean, leather wearing man with a bouncy, little surfer. They scurried off when Axel glanced at them, but he only grinned. “Ah, you know what I was thinking? I know it feels like we don’t know a lot of people– but both sides of the aisle are going to be full. Isn’t that strange to think about?” 

[o2hh2o]

"There's raspberry liqueur infused chocolate and then the one you just popped into your mouth is orange." Roxas' eyes followed Abraxas' unsteady feet, and the motherly instinct to perpetually reach for and catch him was distracting her somewhat. Either way, she was engrossed in the romantic bliss that was finally getting around to planning that single day that was a declaration to all their friends and family that yes they were going to be together forever and no there wasn't a chance in hell they'd be with anyone else ever again. The concept alone made her heart rate escalate to rapid territory and she took a quick bite of red velvet again just to punctuate what Axel was feeling. "Kingsten's been sort of dictating the wedding based around my ideas, so if you want a red velvet cake layer, then you can have that and whatever else you..." She trailed off and smiled because he was distracted, but it wasn't the negative kind of distracted. It was the hazed out look of stupid contentment she'd seen him wearing for weeks. Something deep inside told her he'd been fantasizing about their honeymoon since she'd given him a sneak peak of some of the goodies she'd planned on packing along for the trip. Even though they had upscale reservations for an exclusive beachside resort in Spain, she was more thrilled by the idea of the tiny villa they'd rented on the beach where they'd already made plans to be perpetually drunk and naked. Roxas reached up and snapped her fingers with a short laugh, flashing her sweet smile and glancing toward the window where onlookers were admiring them. "Earth to Axel..." She waved her tiny fork at the audience in acknowledgement and then turned back to her husband-to-be who was slowly returning to the present state.  "It's weird because--when we first met--I sort of thought that tying the knot would include eloping in Las Vegas with Elvis as our witness or something." Nevada wasn't that far anyway, and drunkenly stumbling into a chapel and promising not to 'stick it in anyone else' for the rest of forever was so very them. "But it's going to be like a huge party. A massive drunken celebration, and that's just as good. If not better." Abraxas made his way over to Roxas for another small bite of cake, and she messily let him take a bite off her fork. Satisfied, he returned to wandering around the shop and toddler babbling at anyone who'd listen. "We get to use your daddy's faux-Irish roots as an excuse to be rowdy." Roxas held up another bite of cake for Axel to try and thought for a moment. "All of our friends, my grandparents, some cousins, co-workers. It's like sometimes I think we know absolutely no one except eachother, but our guest list hit triple digits within ten minutes of planning. It's nice, you know? People are excited for us. I'm excited for us. All of it makes me really happy."

[passion-fruitss]

[otogiryou-blog]

[o2hh2o]

Glucose

Beyond the candy store's walls stood a man with brooding shoulders and a lidded stare.

{☼} — She was drifting through Dylan's Candy Bar with a purse slung over her shoulder and contemplative stare through the technicolor haze of confectioner goodness. This was her safe haven with its looming lollipop canopies, endless candy walls made up of colorful bins developed through artificial flavoring and childhood appreciation, and rows upon rows of throw back candy. If Roxas loved one thing more than life itself, her infant son not included, then it was candy. Anything sweet that set off her tastebuds was euphoria in itself, and she was downright obsessed with munching on sugary goodness. Her dedicated workout regimen made this sweets consuming lifestyle possible for her, and whenever she was at a photoshoot she could be soon carting around a plastic bag of either Sour Skittles or bright red Swedish fish tossed in sour powder. Today she was going after something different, but she wasn't sure what exactly that different was going to be. Stepping up to a display of lollipops that ran from the conventional to downright bizarre flavors, she picked up a pink lemonade flavored sucker and placed it in her shopping bin before squinting. Her freckled nose crinkled for a moment and she rolled onto her heels before looking over to see a full grown man seemingly not far off her current train of thought. "There's just so much, you know?" She wasn't sure why she'd opened her mouth to him, but she needed some kind of assistance to make it through this pick-and-choose process. Before she could say anything else, though, there was the sound of a crash followed by an avalanche of jellybeans coming for the pair's at feet at a breakneck pace. Someone's child had gotten a little too grabby and they were the victims of the aftermath.  

[reclaimedmemoirs]

The Golden Coast

Red hair cascaded down the top of his lean back, and he let a short exhale through his nose to signify that he was growing tired of how long it was. Scrubbing oil out of it every night was starting to become a chore that he never thought he had to partake in with his management position at his shop. It took a few long couple of minutes staring into the mirror of his muggy apartment bathroom, before he figured that it had nothing to do with the length of his hair.

It had to do with getting out of the state. To breathe air that wasn’t a part of the dry rock that was Utah. The crass fumes that he inhaled on a daily basis were producing migraines that couldn’t simply be fixed with a couple shots of NyQuil and a heavy dose of sleep. Maybe it was a matter of a different air? It became a matter of motivation over the coarse of a month, and the weather became more dense with heat, that Axel felt his face turn as red as his hair. He made a quick notification to his employees, letting them know he was off to visit his sick grandma in Arizona.

Axel didn’t have family in Arizona, or a grandmother who is alive and well.

The personal leave would be a week and a half long—just long enough to clear his mind and body of the daily stresses he amounted on his position. Once he was packed, he hopped into his Orange 1970 Plymouth Roadrunner and drove down to Arizona, only managing to stay for two days until he grew antsy—Gibbions wanted to experience a bit more to life than just stuffy heat and dry rocks. Driving further west, he stopped upon a warm area in Southern California. The trouble wasn’t finding a motel to stay in, instead, it was a matter of figuring out what to do first now that he was here. Road trips alone were rather quiet, and he had to admit that the radio and scratched up CDs ranging from late 90s Sugar Ray and Lit, if he was lucky, Sum 41 would play correctly if he hit put enough condensation on the silver part of the CD to clean the scratches off.

His lean legs carried him to a long stretch of boardwalk—one that was notoriously known for it’s popularity within California. It was packed, and Gibbons brushed his arms against several people before managing to escape to the recesses of a open store that sold scooters, roller blades, roller skates, and skateboards, as well as several different sections of long boards. It was worth a shot to keep him busy for the day, and he had fond memories of rollerblading as a teenager.

Which was exactly ten years ago—Gibbions hadn’t realized just how difficult it was to roller blade when there was a drastic height different, and shoe size. He wasn’t even sure he would be able to skate within the confines of the boardwalk with how crowded it already was. His bright green eyes scanned over the many girls that were walking past the open-door stores, and took notice to just how similar the attire was to the late ninties. Did everyone here really dress like 1990 came back and slapped everyone in the face? He almost felt like he should be adorned in a white polo tucked into his cargo shorts and wearing a neon yellow and pink windbreaker to set the tone. After tying his shoe laces together and letting them hang over his left shoulder, he laced up his newly bought rollerblades and stood up slowly while holding the wall for support.

A couple of soft giggles of laughter could be heard, and the male employees of the store helf back their snickers as Axel wobbled while attempting to stand up straight. He was really too old for this. But he left Utah to have fun, and he ignored the amusement in favor of starting a couple few strokes of his blades before entering the boardwalk again, thankfully rather clear. Feeling like a newborn deer on its new legs, Axel gathered many looks that were quickly disregarded—until he made a mistake of turning his head to look at a bunch of teenage girls who were laughing like mad at him. The wind was knocked out of him and he fell to the ground flat on his ass. His first intention was to lash out and yell at the other person to watch where they were going—although, it was his fault. Instead, his opened his eyes after hissing out a quick ‘damn’ and saw that he had ran into a girl at least a foot shorter than him. ” My God,— I’m so sorry, miss. ” If how he was being treated thus far in this new state with the locals, he was sure that he was going to get an earful from the blond female that he just crashed into. 

Attempting to stand up in order to help her up, Axel fell back on his ass two more times before he shook his head, and let out a laugh that he attempted to keep in. ” I’m terribly sorry—I’m like a baby fawn with new legs with these blades. You’re not hurt, are you ? “ Instead of standing again, he decided to remain on the ground, even though he was blocking a good portion of the board walk, and the people who stuck around to make sure the blond female was okay eventually moved along once they realized that the girl wasn’t bleeding or in any major harm.

[o2hh2o]

{☼} — Life had a knack for dancing in a rather frustrating continuum of busy. Between running the beachfront record store and juggling her professional surfing career, Marx felt lucky when she had the time to sit down and play with her infant son's feet. Unless it was an emergency, she absolutely hated handing off her son to a babysitter, because already she felt like the second she hadn't needed to breastfeed anymore she'd become the distant working mother her conservative upbringing had instilled a guilt complex into her from the first full day she spent running herself into the ground without seeing him. Young motherhood was exhausting. Before she could even legally drink she'd pushed out another human being into the hands of a baby daddy nearly ten years her senior.          Not that she had any buyer's regret, but the stress had apparently worn her through because the night before a friend had offered to babysit for free just so that Roxas could breathe. Her son Abraxas' father wasn't necessarily around because of his importing and exporting job that involved conspicuous runs to and from Mexico, so it wasn't often she could unload their offspring onto him. She couldn't complain, though. Financially, they were well taken care of, but sometimes she still needed that important break that verified she was indeed a child still. Roxas never felt like she'd had enough time to grow up, which was why, when given the opportunity to carelessly roam for a day, she'd tugged out a pair of pink roller skates, yanked on a seafoam green Brazilian bikini and called it a day. The sun was piping hot, the tourists were in, and she needed the tan.        Skating came easily for her. Aside from surfing, it was one of the first things she'd forced herself to learn how to do upon moving to California's coast. Roxas laced up on the wooden bench directly outside of her closed down shop and made sure her ankles were incredibly secure before standing up with sure footing and repositioning the bag that contained her suntanning oil, iPhone, transitionary flip-flops, wallet and assortment of other necessities for being out for a day. The California blond skated off toward the  main sidewalk without wobbling or missing much of a beat, and it didn't take her long to drift off into her own little zone where the only goal was to enjoy the summer weather and avoid everyone who wandered into her path with lithe fawn-like motions.        Her careful skating, because there were children around, was why abruptly colliding with a mass of living meat and landing ass down onto the hard pavement was so shocking. There'd been a flash of red followed by her startled whine as she pounced on her bodacious bottom that might've looked like cushioning but indeed had quite the set of nerves. Roxas glanced up at the man she'd ended up entangled with, his lanky limbs looping over hers, and she saw the miserable apology all over his face. At first, she wanted to scold him like a small child and remind him to be careful, but the he tried standing up only to fail, miserably. Marx watched him with a frown that soon morphed into a smile, but it wasn't until he fell the second time did she flat out laugh.        "You're fine! I'm not hurt or anything!" But by then she was on her back looking at the sky, still laughing, because the redhead with his sharp cheekbones and Oregon mountain eyes was trying so hard. "Hold on. Let me just..." And with as much grace as she could muster, she was on her feet, stable as ever, with hands reaching down to help the lanky man up. Still laughing profusely, she looped her fingers around his wrists and tugged with all her tiny might until he swooped up onto two feet and unsteadily stood in front of her. By his bowleggedness she had to wonder if he'd ever owned a pair of skates before that day. "Are you okay? You look like you're having a hard time with those." 

[whiskycoke]

[o2hh2o]

Emblem.

The door to a tattoo parlor opened with a tired swing and there stood a man of blue.

{☼} — Her mouth was dry as she padded toward a local tattoo parlor with the kind of pristine reputation that brought a lot of security for Roxas. That morning she'd woken up in a romantic haze where the whimsy of the world was unique and vivid in a way that made her make believe a kaleidoscope in front of her skyline eyes, and she was under the spell of early summertime that told her to do something impulsive. Impulsive but not meaningless, and she reminded herself of that while getting dressed, tugging a brush through her hair and examining her freckles in the bathroom mirror.        Beneath her arm was a skateboard pressed against her hip and when the bell chimed as she stepped inside she glanced around the atypical skin parlor with a searching stare. A lean man with blue locks somehow grown out and simultaneously slicked back in the front stood to the side. Uncertain about what she should do, the record store owner drifted toward the framed images of neo-traditional art that were on display for customers to draw inspiration from, and she brought her hair over a single shoulder as she looked. Deep down she know what she wanted already, but Roxas was waiting for one of the in shop artists to acknowledge her. Interrupting people while they were busy never sat well with her, and she was trying to be polite. Had the shop been owned by people she knew, then her entrance would've been sweeping and playfully grand. Right then she was concentrating on a pineapple drawing. 

[katie-scott-blog]

[b4dsuns-deactivated20150320]

Lea didn’t know if he were blushing because the girl he avoided crashing into was fretting over him like a mother hen or the amount of skin she displayed publicly. Probably both and Lea being considerate or not those “types”, he didn’t stare. But he didn’t have time to act shy and flustered when Roxas, the girl had identified herself earlier, poured her FIJI water all over his bloody knuckles. Hissing, he retracted his hands to his chest, wetting the front of his shirt, his knuckles stinging more. He was probably being a total shit baby but damn- he wasn’t exactly the kind of kid to toughen up or grow a layer of skin with the saying "I’m use to it" from his first skateboard accident because he cried when he fell into rubble like a sack of potatoes. Like hell he’ll ever get use to injuries like these.

"Hey it’s fine," he gritted out, "I pulled a shit stop- totally my fault." Braving a pained smile, he watched as the other made a move for his hands again. Letting her, the redhead watched in horror as she inspected his hands. He couldn’t even look at his own damn hands so he kept his green eyes glued to her blond hair. Blood free, pretty even, and he would’ve liked to run his hands through it but being in this situation he doubt she’ll let him.

And was that his hands shaking in her’s?

"Damn are you use to this kinda sight because if I look down, I’ll knock out on you." Forcing out a laugh, hoping it would lighten up the mood but instead it sounded downright scared to his ears."Well this is going to be one hell of a story to the guys back home. Pretty gal wiping away my tears- the name’s Lea by the way."

[o2hh2o]

"Used to this kind of thing?" Roxas' laughter bubbled out and she quirked an eyebrow as she pondered that question. To say she was used to the blood and sweat of her multiple athletic pastimes was an understatement. Her life was kicking off and taking a beating from whatever wave was motivated to suffocate her that morning. More than once she'd made out with pavement and it was a wonder she hadn't skinned off most of her face at this point in her life. When she noted he was actually trembling, Roxas held tight to his fingers without touching his wounds. "My longboard is right over there. I've taken several hard falls in my day, so..."

She brightened when he called her 'pretty.' Younger boys were absolutely adorable in her book, and he was making a point to punctuate on why exactly she thought that to begin with. The little compliments they dropped that were always decipherable as either sincere or just looking for gain were amusing, and right then, she had a feeling he was being sincere through his faint stress. "You're a brave little soul for being able to go to your friends and tell them you cried over a skate stumble." But she wasn't making fun of him. She just knew how boys liked to be about feelings and sensitivities. "But it's nice to meet you, Lea. You know I feel really bad about this, still." She stood up and then grabbed his hands and helped him, also. Roxas was tiny. She was only about five foot at the end of the day, so when Lea stood he still managed to tower over her. She wasn't shocked, though. Once a boy hit puberty there went any height advantage she might've had over him, and from Lea's toned biceps and fading baby face, she knew he'd dropped a ball or two. "We're right by an ice cream shop. Can I get you something that'll make your boo-boos not hurt as much?" But she was joking. Roxas kept inspecting his hands. As someone who had rightly earned her MILF title, she had a deep sensitivity toward people who were younger than her and injured.