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Post by brooklynn dahyes on Oct 14, 2009 15:55:58 GMT -5
brooklynn dahyes
....for lack of a better word Slap, slap, slap.
Her mother named her Brooklynn. For lack of a better word. Really, not a good name to have when you practically lived in the town.
Slap, slap, slap.
She didn't like to be called Brook though, so she stuck with the name.
Slap, slap, slap.
Each CD case slid back with a gratifying slap. Each plastic cover assualted it's brother. And she smiled. She knew the cover art on each one by heart. Each color grinned back, the bright arrangements for her favorites, the provocitive pictures on the ones she'd rather put down. But sadly, those were the most popular, and flew off the shelves.
Slap, sap, slap.
And this is why she was re-stocking them.
Slap, sap, slap.
Her iPod blared out the bubblegum pop that the younger teens were playing by one of the listening stations. Each blaring note was loud, and she barely heard the slapping over it.
Slap, sla- 'She isn't afraid of death, I can see it in her eyes.
She liked those lyrics. She wasn't afraid of death. She saw it quite prefrably to the pain that most endured instead.
'I can't miss this chance to take you, and here's my chance to take you.'
She frowned. Maybe she didn't like these lyrics.
And the next resounding slap made her shudder, and she squinched her eyes not to remember.
'Heels slap the sidewalk, begging for a back beat.'
She just sighed, and continued to restock the distasteful music.
Hello Brooklynn - All Time Low |
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Post by harlot jones on Oct 16, 2009 9:56:00 GMT -5
The soft patting of rain had awoken his slumbering state, arrousing his peaceful body. On the top of the roof, he stood, staring at the large tree as it swayed, wind its music, dancing to it. As if the large pine had penetrated the sky, the heavy, bulging clouds, raindrops fell, sheets of rain now not patting, but pounding. Grinning, he ran to the door in which the stairs were located. Hurrying down them, his mind fumbled for which level and apartment he was. Luckily for him, he had it all to himself, not that it mattered, really, which one he was in, but he perferred his room. Running past it, Harlot soon stopped and ran too it. Level seven [lucky number] number's thirteen [another lucky number, though the appartment went to level thirteen, only Har knows about that one]. Fumbling, he got the door open.
It didn't take long for him to get all the way awake, but the large, slumbering great dane wasn't any help. She lay on his bed, spread out, bottle all around. Though he normally woulda been mad at her, he grinned and bent, going to run on the two layer [feather first and then comforting water second] bed, and pounding on it. Lizzie's head cocked. She got up slowly, as normal, which made Harlot glad he didn't have a hyper dog. Do peoples dogs look like them? His rather did, and acted alike. Lizzie had a large, [though natural] black streak across her left eye, [whereas Harlots was right] and her body was a pale white. He hadn't picked her, he found her, rather.
Getting from the bed, he moved to the bathroom, squinting as the image he saw was three of him, not one. Within a few seconds, it turned normal. The black streak was there. His normal, which V-neck shirt was white as ever, and he glanced down to his neon orange skinny jeans. Perfect. Inhaling deeply, the senior fumbled for the black converses he always wore. By the bed. Again, he went to them. Slipping them on, he whisled for lizzie and she arose, this time faster than before. There was no need in a lease. She was the best trained dog. Ever.
Food suddenly seemed an empty void in his stomach, and he craved it. Though he knew it had stopped raining and was chilly, he found no need in a jacket, he was a cold person. Slowly, he moved to the door, lizzie trying to fit her mass beside him. Smiling and shaking his head, he let her go first.
Soon, they were on the streets, and he realized it was rather early, almost no one was out. Glancing, he saw the image of a female, but that wasn't what interested him, the bright, intriging colors caught his attention. Staring at the covers on display our front, he shoved his hands into his pocket, and an alluring grin covered his handsome features, his bue eyes sparkled with want, his ebony hair strung to the side. Staring down at the covers, his mind seemed to play alone, he only heard the music inside his head. Inhaling sharply, he swallowed, but looked away from the music. Lizzie whined, not wanting to leave, but the great dane didn't dare disobey, and moved away with him.
Its of course up to you what you want done O.O cause well, hes kinda leaving so if we wish to go further she needs ta stop him XD
SEREN! I POSTED!!!! - O.O me? o.o |
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