#op: malcolm

[aparoxysm]

                "----- How in the name of anything sacred did you get let back in here? I thought they stopped you at the door.... Or is this another one of those demented Rules Don’t Apply To Me episodes?”

@holywitchkid

[aparoxysm]

                      Sleeve pulled down from their shoulder, Hayden touched their fingertips to the ivory fleck that embedded itself into their skin just below their collarbone, a little askew from the shoulder joint, the skin soft the way scarred tissue always was. Staring at their neon reflection in the banged up mirror of the dingy nightclub bathroom, their chin raised as their nail traced the way the skin had healed wrongly over the outline of a tattoo, misshaping it. Most of the time, they forgot they even had the scar until they caught it in a reflection, or somebody asked about it. Hearing the door open beside them though and the sudden expansion of their eardrums to the music that was reverberating around the foundation outside the bathroom, Hayden was pulled from their moment of silent reflection. They were here for a reason, and if they weren't diligent about it, he would sink back into the night without a trace and it was likely that they may never get the chance again.

                     It had only been by absolute chance that Hayden had seen the familiar face on their way home from work, freshly changed out of scrubs and back into habitual leather and black denim. And while a good part of them knew that they should get on their bike and just go home to Talon, another part, a savage part, caused them to bow their head, zip up their jacket and follow a good safe distance behind. They didn't even know his name, but they were good with faces. Too good, maybe, as his was ingrained with the loud bang of a nail gun to follow.

                     It had taken almost an hour for his trail intercity to lead them here, into the thick of night to some back-alley carpet crawler den where the music was alternative and the place was lined with a dirty, industrial feel. Weirdly, it felt like a place Hayden would come to as well if only to escape the everyday norm on the streets, easily receiving the sultry and wicked looks from the bizarre looking people they waded past in order to keep an eye on the back of their target's head. Taking in little else after he hit the bar though, Hayden decided to blend themselves into the shadows just to observe, to see what he was like when he didn't know someone was watching him. The hand gestures, the stretch of his skin as he laughed moronically despite how the music drowned him into a silent puppet. For almost twenty minutes, they drifted from shadow to shadow, watching and learning things about him from a distance, slipping into the setting whenever Hayden noticed him craning his head towards them. It was stimulating like a game, and when it was made pretty clear that he wasn't looking to move, Hayden knew that this was their moment to decide. Either they planted themselves into the scene like they had a few times before, or they left for the exit and went home.

                     Cold eyes blazing back at them from their reflection, Hayden's mind snapped to the present like an elastic band and suddenly, they fell into motion as if they were running out of time. Pulling the dark overshirt from their torso, they balled it up with their leather jacket to leave them a layer less and now revealed in a black camisole, straps upon straps lining their shoulders from the garment underneath resembling some kind of BDSM style that was just so in these days, tattooed chest, arms and neck now overly exposed. Hayden knew that without cover-ups, people looked. They always looked. And in times like these, that would be the point.

                     Hair frizzing from the sweat sanctum that was the rest of the club, Hayden began to cross the floor and look for the familiar face all over again. Still where they'd left him, Hayden twisted a little so that when their stomach met the bar, they were conveniently only a  few spaces down the road from him. Enough in plain sight that they were sure if he had eyeballs, he'd see them, but not so close that their placement felt obvious. Planted, even.

                     Handing out their jacket and shirt to the bartender, words were exchanged about holding onto them for the time being before Hayden pulled out some cash from their back pocket to get a drink. After all, people in places like these only hovered at the bar to order drinks or to pick off people who were ordering drinks. Most of the time though, Hayden was good at boycotting any of those lingering conversations, and right now, even if they were intending to be seen, that didn't mean they wanted to talk. Something about their expression must have read it too because nobody tried. Instead, they were left alone as the music vibrated through the floors and the bartender took their money, a casual exchange while Hayden took the chance then to glance down the way just in time to meet the pair of eyes they'd been starving for all night.

                     The club was dark, probably unnecessarily so in some places and Hayden was sure that there was no safety policy in some of the back rooms or stairwells surrounding this joint which made it borderline perfect. Lights glittered where they were supposed to and avoided other corners completely, making the shadowed part of his face look even more like a nightmare than the abandoned subway ever had. A sharp drop in the beat of the song reminded them in a flash of the crack of leather against his skin, blood rushing as welts rose and their hair being pulled followed by the bang of a nail gun. All these images passed through their mind as they held his gaze, no real emotion touching their face but not remaining entirely a blank expression either. There was something provoking there, behind their eyes just like there was in his by nature, yet at the same time, it also came with a warning.

@@holywitchkid.

[aparoxysm]

@holywitchkid .

     YOU ARE NOT YOUR CHOICES.

                 Even after closing her eyes to block out her surroundings, Liz could still see the poster of damaged eyes and a face twice her size staring back at her from across the subway station, the thick smell of sweat, grime, grease, and god knows what else filling her nose as she took a few beats to get her mind on track. You're not your choices? Bull fucking shit, all you are are your choices. That's what makes up a person, who fucking thinks of these ads.... Her mind rattled off as her brows drew in, and hard, eyes opening up again at the sound of subway brakes screeching. Glaring at the passing scenery of neighborhood come industrial wasteland turn neighborhood again only to break into sudden high-rise skylines, Liz was reminded by the bustling crowd on board just how much she hated The Orient Express and how different of a person she was since the last time she used to ride this same line regularly. Shit, to think that.... at the ripe age of twenty-six she'd catapulted herself into the heart of New York City like some bat out of Hell on an escapee Visa, it was almost like trying to match her life with someone else's she didn't recognize now. From one messy break up to a broken wrist to fishing for a place to stay with a literal stranger, well... it was hard not to smile at where she'd been so far. Even if she did really fucking hate this city.

                 Liz was an entire reflection of her choices in life, and she wore them on herself as obvious as clothing and yet as hidden as any traditional family secret. There was a very smart part of her that knew this choice, the one she was making right now as she stared at the building ahead of her marked target, was definitely not one she should have been making. But if asked, it wasn't hard to explain why she was making it, not to anybody who was paying attention to her anyway. Though that was just all part of it ---- who was paying attention anymore? Like always, Liz felt alone in her troubles but the problem now was that she was spoiled, and she didn't love her solitude anymore. If Lanford had taught her anything, it was how to make a family, a family that counted, out of the people around her no matter race, gender, alien or straight tequila. And hell, if she let herself be human for a minute, she fucking missed it. She missed the unshowered ratbags, the cultured assholes, the margarita crew and Olympian Gods of her life. She missed having people walk in her door with a story to tell and a bottle in hand to tell it with. Now, the apartment she lived in was almost empty of anything resembling that life. Leo on the couch was an old-new addition and an entirely different matter to deal with, but that didn't make up for the gaping fucking hole in her chest when she saw a familiar face across town and didn't even bother to shout out.

                 Staring at a door in front of her now, Liz damned herself to burn a mismatched hole in it. Her hands were shoved into the ass-pockets of her old jeans, the curve of her chest strained against a random vendor shirt with some unreadable slogan she'd gotten that one time Gus had thrown up on her after too many nostalgic blue drinks. It had only cost a dollar, something she usually announced to anybody who was caught staring. Today though, she was sweating into it and her hair, now grown long and tangly again with unkempt attitude, begged to be pulled back from her face with one of the five elastic bands she collected on her wrist for no reason other than she used to flick them at people when they annoyed her.

                 Regardless of the nerves she felt in her belly though, the door sat in front of her untouched. She had no real reason of being here except for the zip lock pouch in her bag, a pathetic excuse but an excuse all the same. If she just stood and stared for long enough, Liz knew she could talk herself out of this, that she could spit on the step, turn on her heel and never look back until some other excuse popped up. But God, she was grinding. Yearning for something to come out of that door and smack her in the face, shake her around and rattle her thoughts to scramble them up again. She always liked it more when things didn't make so much sense, felt ease within the chaos that easily stressed people to the high heavens. She craved that anarchy; needed it even. Hell, she just wanted to feel more than this. Whatever this lingering feeling was.

                 Yanking a hand out of her pocket with sudden spirit, Liz began to smack the heel of her fist against the door, loud enough for any neighboring resident to hear should any even exist. She had to get his attention, she had to make him know it was her. Of all people, it was her and that counted for something, he had to open the door.

       "If you're in there, there's no point ignoring me! I know this is where you're at, so fucking open up." Maybe he wasn't home, that was definitely a possibility, but if he was, she had to make sure he opened that door. She needed him to, she needed this. Once blinded by simple red rage, Liz had to admit there was something about Malcolm's particular brand of chaos that resided inside her too. It was a strange kind of comfort, looking at a person and being able to see herself. She didn't get that with anyone, and for a long time, she was so sure that was a designated symptom of her design. It gave her the ability to breed her loneliness for lack of being able to associate with others. At least, until him. "---- Seriously, I'm gonna fucking knock down this door if you don't open up." She gave it a hard kick at the base with her sneaker, showing that she wasn't bluffing.

[scftheartcd]

Tell me

If you snuck into my room I would:

[  ] Go back to sleep                 [  ] Kick you out[  ] Cuddle with you                   [ X ] Be like “How in the world?”[ X ] Let you sleep on the floor couch    [  ] Become angry

If you kissed me (or hugged) I would:

[ X ] Kiss or hug you back                       [  ] Smile and laugh[ X ] Stiffen, and feel uncomfortable        [  ] Push you away[ X ] Be shocked                                       [  ] Strike you

If you asked me to go out with you for a day I would say:

[  ] No          [ X ] Yes          [  ] Most certainly not.          [ ] Without hesitation.

You are:

[ X ] Cute          [  ] Adorable          [ X ] Attractive          [ X ] Beautiful[  ] Okay         [  ] Ugly                 [  ] Am not going to grace this with an answer

You are to me a:

[  ] Stranger          [ X ] Acquaintance          [  ] Ally[ X ] Friend              [  ] Love                        [  ] Rival [  ] Enemy

I find you to be:

[  ] Pathetic          [  ] Off no consequence          [ X ] Intriguing [ X ] Frightening     [  ] Unsettling                          [  ] Annoying [  ] Infuriating       [ X ] Pleasant company            [  ] Comforting [  ]  Unable to be lived without                            [  ] Trustworthy

[aparoxysm]

✌✌✌

{{ send ✌ for my muse to say something positive about yours }}

       “You know —- as cannivingly manipulative as she can be, she’s definitely the one of us who I think’s got her head screwed on the tightest…. Because at least she’s doing something she loves. Not everyone gets that lucky…”

      “As dumb as it sounds, she’s kind of reminded me how to feel again. I never really got a lot of normal in my life but —- she’s showing me its kind of not that bad. Or boring, actually.”

      “Hey, I’m not saying I admire him or anything, I’d rather shit down my own throat actually, but dude, that guy’s lived. You gotta admit, like if there was a nuclear explosion right now, he’d be the only fucker still standing. You know, like him and The Rock, probably. That’s fucking badass, right?”

[aparoxysm]

🖕🖕🖕

{{ alternatively send 🖕 for my muse to say something negative about yours }}

      “Who, my sister? Well, she’s probably the most narcissistic brat I’ve ever had the torture of being related to sometimes. Always been obsessed with the whole smoke and mirrors act. I think there’s a lot to be said about people who are twins —- almost literally being two faced comes to mind.”

     “She needs to learn when to butt the hell out of other people’s business if you ask me. Not my own, but like, other people’s… She likes to gossip, but not everything needs a witty analysis and it’s sometimes like she feels she’s doing the world a favor by putting her opinion out there. But some people just want to be left alone. I don’t know, sometimes it drives me crazy.”

     “Alright, here’s the deal —- if I could literally stick hot forks under my eyelids and fuck myself with a barbed wire dildo and that mean I never had to deal with his piece of shit ass ever again? ….Then sure. Sign me the fuck up.”

[aparoxysm]

Are there any of your partners characters that you can relate to?

Message me (1) thing you want to know about me.

Okay this is really hard because everyone has so many epic characters??? Hmm.

Adele Moore --- @snikklefritsrps --- because she’s an artist and she’s also crazy for the beatles, which are two things that are very me. 

Malcolm Remmington --- @holywitchkid --- his temper tantrums are basically me on a daily basis if maiming and murder wasn’t illegal.

Margot Stark --- @requicms --- her medical condition holds her back because she’s not always willing to accept it. #me af.

Scott Hammond --- @scottmond --- he likes his things and he likes nobody else to touch his things ever and im about that life tbh.

[aparoxysm]

If you could date any character you've ever played opposite to, who would you pick and why?

Message me (1) thing you want to know about me.

WHY WOULD YOU ASK ME THIS???????? I HAVE SO MANY CHARACTER CRUSHES IT’S NOT EVEN FUNNY???

@you — definitely silas. i seriously don’t know what it is about him but i’m just so?? intrigued??? i think it would be fun to expose him to things, and also he would keep me grounded and safe.

@tehkatieofrps — jocelyn BECAUSE SHE’S SO MUCH FUN. i literally miss writing with her so much sometimes. i think once she drops ‘the party girl’ facade and comits to herself more, she’d be such a cool person.

@dropsofautumn — i would date sierra for exactly 30 seconds.

@shehasnoears — brandon, because despite what sally thinks, he literally makes me laugh every 2 seconds. i love his opinions and i enjoy salty people. also, i could finally have a coffee slave to get me coffee every five minutes. i would never have to make or buy one for myself ever again.

@holywitchkid — i want to say that i would love to give malcolm a go but it would literally turn into me trying to drown him in the sink for real.

@dimpsandhoes — james. 100% i would date and marry the shit out of him. i based helena a lot on myself so everything she loves in him is cause of how i see it. i think our chemistry would be badass because i honestly write so much of myself into helena’s personality.

@requicms — margot. i just love her ok? i love angry shit heads. i love her so much i cant. and pretty much, i would want to teach her to get over feeling sorry for herself and support her going after what she wants in life no matter what.

@tentimesoutofnine — adam but only because abs. LOL. but definitely aaron.

@snikklefritsrps — I WOULD DATE MADDIE. it would be so much effort not to fight with her every day but it would be so worth it. she’d educate me on so much. also, we’d never run out of coffee ever.