#alien-christ

[simply-rick]

@alien-christ

Continued from here

Rick had targeted this person for their possession. They flaunted out their phone so well, and with a haughty air, he felt obligated to take it. I would be a pretty penny for him to exchange it.

Though he was oftentimes wary of his environment whenever he made money on the side, he hardly expected someone to throw punches at him. Once his stomach was hit, a small amount of bile and blood made it passed his throat and onto the pavement where he lay defeated. The phone was now shattered and obsolete.

The blonde wiped his mouth and picked himself up, worried he was going to get arrested. When he noticed the stranger wore casual clothes, he turned his fear into anger.

“What the actual fuck, man?”

[exiledfrommainstreet-blog1]

Lyric Starter for Todd

@alien-christ

Mick was always introspective, many thought it was because he was shy that he didn’t talk much. The only way to tell if he was anxious was an occasional stutter in his voice.

John and the band had cleared out for the night. Mick Knew Billy was around, but didn’t mind him staying. The guitarist was always thinking, always coming up with something when alone. Playing a random riff, he happened upon the phrase “Love is an illusion, fraud and deceit.” Nothing else just that one lyric.

[musicrunsthroughmysoul]

I'm sorry you think Gabe deserves your abhorrent behavior. Of course you, the real bully, would claim Gabe is bullying you - because you have absolutely nothing at stake. If Gabe were truly bullying you, you would not delete your blog and continue the same shameful behavior as before, because you as the victim will have learned nothing then. Oh, wait...that's right...that's because you're not the victim. But I tread carefully around such a word because what you don't know because, frankly, you don't even care, is that Gabe is a survivor, not a victim. Gabe has changed for the better, and my friend is more positive and less defensive (to genuine people) now than before, and it's so beautifully heartwarming to see him enjoying his craft with people who appreciate him equally for it. Of course he's wary of people like you cropping up, waiting to strike when he's vulnerable, being absolutely useless to him as a friend, information-wise, and as a fellow fan (though I'm not personally convinced that you are because if you'd go so far as to do all of this nonsensical bullshit, is this all that you really care about? Critical thinking question of the day!!), so of course he's not going to be ready to shower you with love at every opportunity. Because you don't know him - and knowing is different from caring, here - you and your energy are not welcome to associate with him. It's all we, Gabe's friends, can do to keep him assured that there are people out there who exist who do not mean him harm...but you are not one of them, admittedly so.

So I ask you, as Gabe's friend and someone who only cares about him and his well-being, to leave him the fuck alone. And here's further advice to you because I am 100% serious about this: block him, block all of his blogs, and do not attempt to contact him or anyone who doesn't know better. That is just slimy, and it is highly concerning that you're able to "get away with this" in regards to people who mean Gabe no harm whatsoever and simply enjoy him on a personal, writer, and RPer level. You have no right to deceive these genuine people and I hope you are ashamed of yourself. There are other ways of getting what you want that do not involve hurting every god damn person who unknowingly obscures your path. "Why do bad things happen to good people, then?" Because you let it. Because YOU let it.

[ixngarcia-blog]

“E-Excuse me, um...” Ian ran a hand through his hair, then scratching his beard. “I’m Ian. I heard you were searching for photographers, I don’t know if it’s true, though.” 

[exiledfrommainstreet-blog1]

The Bigger the Love || Todd

The eighties had been better than the seventies to the English blues guitarist. Finally sober, Mick had dealt with all of his demons and looked forward to working with an old friend he’d met during his time with John Mayall. 

However, today he was supposed to be meeting Billy Burnette. Someone his wife (ex-wife, but he’d never say those words) had spoken highly of during her short stint touring with Fleetwood Mac after the departure of their main guitarist, Lindsey Buckingham in 1988. 

Alone in the studio for now, Mick did as he always did. Unpacking his guitar, he found a seat and began to play old blues tunes. As he played Stop Breakin’ Down, he heard the door open, but continued to play as the person came in. Part of him hoped it was Susie, but he knew better. 

Especially after a man walked in. “Hello,” Mick greeted very softly. “I-I thought you may be.. some...someone else,” his voice was almost angelic soft as he anxiously stuttered in front of the new comer. “I’m Mick Taylor.” He paused his playing to listen to the gentleman.

@alien-christ

[wrongarmofthelaw]

Matt was on his usual patrol. Night after night, he walked the streets. As much as part of his mind wanted to slaughter those he came across, now he had other things to think of. Other people to think of.  He saw a man on the opposite side of the street. Something struck him as odd. He didn’t seem quite human, yet he was not like any other supernatural being he had encountered. His curiosity was piqued. He wondered if he should approach the man. If he was to do so, it would have to be in a way that didn’t come across as frightening. Something easier said than done.

( @alien-christ )

[scpanacea]

Gust

@alien-christ

‘Breaking News, there appears to be a huge fire at the research facility of the ever enigmatic SCP Foundation. Press has been unable to enter the walls since the Foundation’s official founding over one hundred years ago. All we have been told is that something dangerous is contained within each of the Foundation’s individual sites. The Foundation claims they have everything under control and that they have recovered everything that they could, what hasn’t been recovered is most likely destroyed. Nevertheless they encourage the public to keep an eye out for anything unusual or strange in the coming months.’

How long ago was that? Judging by the June breeze that rippled through this world, it would seem that was far back months ago in February. Such a long time ago that was– with the winter vanishing into the past, the snow melting to be replaced. Tall grasses that reached up to the sky, dancing in the wind, with flowers that caught gusts and bowed to the breath of the atmosphere. How long ago was it since he had seen another person in a lab coat? How long ago was it since he was trapped in white walls? How long ago was it since he felt those chains that squeezed the air out of his throat, that made his shoulders pop behind his back, that twisted his wrist– how long ago?

The bark of the tree that supported him felt so firm and gentle, it caught the ‘clothing’ that donned his body, but for the most part he was alright. The light for which shined down through the branches of the trees that shaded him from the bright sun, it provided the perfect lighting for him to write in his journal. The yellowing pages matched with the ink of a pen he had found in an alley way a long time ago, it all worked to sustain his notes and his research, things he had discovered and hypothesis he must test when he recovered completely from his injuries. The burns that covered his body back then were now healing nicely and were being replaced by skin, which was then covered by the clothing that grows out of his body.

The sound of a branch cracking just out of sight made him jump and he almost drew a line on the page, thankfully he did not. Milky blue eyes looked back and peeked out from his side of the tree, making contact with the form that stood just a ways off staring at him. Oh he did not like this, for some reason he detected something he wasn’t all too fond of. There was something wrong here, perhaps this was an unfortunate turn of events, or perhaps it was because of the dull throb in his skull, or maybe even because he was just paranoid. Whatever the reason for his suspicion, he was not pleased to see this stranger. Pulling himself from the ground with a wince, he got to his feet.

“What can I help you with?”

((If you don’t want to reply to this starter/you prefer to plot before RPing feel free to IM me, I wont be offended or upset. These starters are here solely to cut out that middle man known as awkwardness.))