Human
Written by Megan.
75 posts.
21 years old.
bi bi bi.
I am Male.
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Post by Maddox Kane on Nov 25, 2015 3:01:10 GMT
He wasn’t from around here. Nowhere even close. This was the other side of the world as far as he was concerned, nothing like the cluttered streets of the New York ghettos, and he couldn’t be more thankful. It’d been a few months, not close enough to a year for his liking, his past nipping at his heels like the pesky little Chihuahua the neighboring room insisted on letting out every time he left the room, since he’d left home- if it could even be considered that. It never felt like it. A shady little apartment with one bedroom that his mom had claimed as her own forcing him to sleep on the couch from the age of about four until he finally cut town, and dingy kitchen with a busted stove and a microwave that electrocuted him every time he hit the ‘3’ button, and a bathroom infested with earwigs and the occasional roach- but it’s not even the look of the apartment that made it not quite home. It was what festered inside. His mother, who was he kidding, the only thing she’d ever done to earn that title was carry him around for nine months, sat. Not much more than that. Hiding out in her room, screaming to her son if she ever needed anything and the faintest snorting sounds leaking from under the door- it was no shock to him that she wasted what was meant to be his lunch money on a bag of crack, or maybe even some other drug, he never bothered asking specifics. He just didn’t care. Living in under the same roof, hours spent only a plank of wood apart, and he could go weeks without seeing her. Not that he complained. Their source of their income was his step-father, he’d never met his real dad, didn’t know if they guy actually existed or if his mother made him up as a hoax and he was just implanted in her by magic. Okay, he just had a really hard time believing someone actually would sleep with her, let alone stay- so he didn’t hold whoever his father was too it. Anyways, step-father. In all honesty, he didn’t even really like thinking about the man, for that just led to what he’d done to the boy- and those are things he’d rather not dig up, he already had to deal with facing the scars, internal and external, every day. The memories can stay buried deep in his mind to never be acknowledged, let alone spoken of. Now if you don’t count the rat he’d befriended and fed occasionally, that meant he was the only other person living there.
Maddox ‘please-just-call-me-Max’ Kane. He was almost ninety-three percent certain she may have been drinking just prior to his birth and she’d just threw out the name without thinking- which was definitely probable. She wouldn’t answer her when he asked. He lived the majority of his life on his own, figuring out how the world works from a young age in one of the roughest parts of town. Let’s just say he was used to getting a little roughed up, it didn’t matter if he was home or not. Someone was always there to push him down. So let the crabby attitude, sarcastic sneers, crude side-eyes, and immense trust issues commence. We have ourselves a problematic character.
He’d grown up rough, grown up hard- and he really didn’t know how to handle the lowkey kindness Beacon Hills radiated. The smiles thrown his way and soft words spoken, Max just didn’t get it, but was slowly getting used to it. He’d never had a heart of stone, God, he’d offered up his lunch to a kid who had gotten it a bit worse than he did that day, even if it was most likely the only meal he’d get out of the next few days. He cared, and he shared, and he helped, but he didn’t let people close. No, that only led to hurt. It was habitual to hide in plain sight, do a good deed and leave. Nothing to see here.
It didn’t always quite work, but he made do.
Like today, he’d been at the park, filling out an application for the local café- his motel room wasn’t paying for itself, so a job was needed- when a woman had dropped her bag and he’d stooped down to help gather her belongings. Long story short, no, he didn’t want her number, yes, please leave him alone.
So maybe that’s why he was hiding out in the only vacant corner of the cafe, trying to avoid all masses by keeping his head down and mindlessly filling in the given blank spaces. He was on a roll, information he’d never paid much attention to before flying off the tip of his pen. Or, at least it was until someone stood in his peripheral, beckoning for his attention- which he gave with a confused crunch to his brow, soft blue eyes finding the person’s curiously.
He didn’t say a word, just waited them to state why they thought it was a good idea to bother him.
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Out of Town
Written by Jasmin.
22 posts.
18 years old.
single.
I am Female.
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Post by Charlie Carper on Nov 28, 2015 19:47:46 GMT
Her hands were most often covered in splatters of her day; paint or ink, ink or paint. It was very rare that hands like hers were clean and perhaps that could be taken in multiple ways but best not to get into that now. Today though, her hands were partly covered by a pair of dark purple finger-less gloves, finger-less of course so that Charlie could actually use her hands like a normal human being. Trust, you don't want to get into a conversation with her about how awkward gloves are- you'll be there for a long time.
Charlie had spent her whole life in Beacon Hills (ignoring that period where she lived in Hollywood for a while because her mother had big dreams for her that were not mutual), she was used to the people, used to the infrastructure. Yeah, that kid who asked her out in 4th grade? She still spoke to him. That girl she'd exchanged friendship bracelets with in middle school- they still sent each other Christmas cards. Charlie was that kind of a girl. She had to be otherwise she'd be unable to stand herself and her life. Here comes the woe is me moment, Charlie's mother was the only family she had left and she was money hungry, a woman who did not believe in a career as an artist. No with her it was always do the best you can and if you fail, well, she wouldn't be there to pick up the pieces. Her mother wanting riches so much though was ridiculous, they weren't poor, never been close thanks to Charlie' s fathers will and the money he'd left for them. He'd died when she was nine years old in a car accident on his way home from weeks away; she'd baked him a pie and everything.
She was in her last year of school now, someone who was most likely to be voted Prom Queen without having to campaign for it, maybe she was 'popular' but to her everyone was a friend. In a way though that mental attitude left her without close friends, people she could always rely on, always being nice could make you pretty lonely. As far as Charlie was concerned she was going to study Art at college even if her mum never spoke to her again. She'd been working hard to complete projects left right and center to send to art schools, she was hoping for a scholarship. To motivate herself though she needed coffee.
Beacon Hills Cafe was her go-to she'd rather that than Starbucks, in fact, she'd shudder at the thought of asking someone in a green apron for some absolute frufru drink. Ordering her Americana, Charlie inched her way through the crowds to go and collect her drink. Glancing down at the feet around her, Charlie caught sight of her boots and the fact that her shoelace was undone on her left foot. Great. Grabbing her drink, Charlie edged to the quieter part of the shop, she didn't exactly want to crouch down to do up her shoe. It was then that she noticed a guy with an empty chair. Making her way towards him, it was only when she was right in front of him that she considered that maybe he wouldn't want to be disturbed. Noticing his gaze on her, Charlie cleared her throat before speaking, "hi! I was wondering if I could just sit here for a moment, I need to do over my shoelace before I trip on it and spill my coffee which would be much more tragic than a broken neck." Somehow she managed to keep a straight face through all of this but a moment later she cracked a smile.
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Human
Written by Megan.
75 posts.
21 years old.
bi bi bi.
I am Male.
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Post by Maddox Kane on Dec 8, 2015 16:54:07 GMT
Max would normally disagree. How on Earth is spilling a five dollar coffee any worse than a broken neck- but then again, this is coming from a guy who has managed to break his left arm twice, not counting various phalanges. He knew the pain, and never did actually care for coffee- unless it was flavored with a bunch of syrups he couldn’t recall and the bitter coffee taste was left a just a barely there hint. Which was kind of why he was applying for a job here, less temptation to take. Getting fired because he was making more drinks for himself than the customers just didn’t sound appealing.
All of this aside, he nodded at the girl, gesturing towards the open seat with a trace of a smile on his lips. He hadn’t meant to seem cold, and he knew that he most likely had, but he was kind of fed up with pretty woman interrupting him to their benefit while he was trying to fill out an application so he could, you know, live. No money means no food, and no shelter, and no car or clothes or warmth. This one piece of paper kind of determined his fate. It’d be nice if he could just finish it, but what kind of questions even are these? More importantly, why is it so hard to remember his own birthday- more so the year than actual day. He had to resort to counting back on his fingers- while blaming his mother for being incompetent at being, well, a mother.
Realizing his stony silence and brooding look probably did little to acknowledge the fact that he really didn’t mind if she sat, he coughed to clear his throat and emphasized, “By all means. Wouldn’t want that.” Max withheld the sarcasm with a trained tongue, habit more than anything. After getting back handed for mocking his step-father once and he’d learned to keep a cap on his sass. “I’m Max, by the way,” he could multitask, right? Fill in blanks will entertaining this young girl. Though he wasn’t sure why he felt the need to. She was just going to tie her shoe and then leave, right?
Eh, he didn’t know, and really didn’t mind either way- as long as this stupid application got finished one way or another, stupid thing.
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Out of Town
Written by Jasmin.
22 posts.
18 years old.
single.
I am Female.
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Post by Charlie Carper on Dec 16, 2015 17:31:01 GMT
Charlie smiled back slipping into the seat before he could go back and change his mind. She'd intended to be quick with tying up her shoelace but these laces could be tricky, aggravatingly so. They were the reason that she woke up five minutes earlier than she had to because the laces on these boots were such slippery buggers that she, a girl who used her hands always, struggled to control. The main reason she wanted to do this job quickly though was because she could see he was busy and Charlie knew only too well what it was like to be interrupted when you were in the midst of concentration. In fact it was the biggest pro she had towards not being nice- at least that way people wouldn't always try and talk to you regardless as to what you were doing.
"Hi, I'm Charlie." Her parents had fancied themselves a unisex name which was fine by Charlie yet people still questioned whether she was actually called Charlotte which was stupid because if she had been born a boy people wouldn't ask if Charlie was short for something they'd just accept it. Charlie propped her foot up on the edge of her seat, focused on it for a moment, fingers growing slightly burnt at the tips as they wound around the string. After successfully tying up her lace in record time, Charlie glanced up to see what Max was doing. "What's the form for?" She asked foot dropping to the floor, it was then she noticed that her other lace was beginning to loosen. Ah, great, wonderful, looked like she'd have to bother this stranger for a bit longer yet.
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Human
Written by Megan.
75 posts.
21 years old.
bi bi bi.
I am Male.
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Post by Maddox Kane on Dec 16, 2015 18:28:10 GMT
Charlie. Seems his parents weren't the only ones who couldn't figure out how to properly name a child- though, it could just be a nickname for Charlotte, but he wasn't going to ask. If she preferred being called that over the more feminine name, than who was he to judge? How many people even knew his real name? He could probably count on one hand, probably wouldn't even reply to it if someone had called it out. He despised the title. Maddox, ha. It's a joke of a name, really. Something Suzanne Collins probably considered, but then rejected for one of her Hunger Games characters- too odd to even be sent to the death, because let's face it, Max would not make it out of those Games alive. Would probably be the one to drop their token and be blown to bits before the timer hit zero. Yeah, that sounds about right. So Max it is. No death, yet, and no muffled giggles from whoever he'd have told.
Rather feel like a dog than a futuristic bag of bones.
Seriously, how does he always end up on these kind of thought trails? This is why he has no friends.
Max watched her for a moment, his thoughts having withered and eyes tracking the movement of her arms- since her fingers were out of his line of sight, the table was blocking the view. It seems she'd gotten herself laced up- no broken necks today. Then a question fell from her lips, his eyes following as they dropped to the forgotten paper before him. Too lost in staring, forgot why he was even here. "Uh," well, no one ever said he was graceful. 'Uh' was in his everyday vocabulary. "An application. To work here," he shrugged, words clipped- awkward pausing. He really wasn't used to any form of attention on him, no one ever bothered to ask him question about himself. Queue sad violin music and the clouds blocking out the sunlight. He was all for movie dramatics- any dramatics, really.
He found his gaze following hers down again, catching the frustrated look on her face and his own eyebrow drew in close. Coughing hesitantly, he tried for a small smile and asked, "Ever think of getting different laces? Maybe ones that aren't set on breaking your bones?"
See? He did have a funny bone after all. Who's Mr. Grumpy Gills now, huh?
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Out of Town
Written by Jasmin.
22 posts.
18 years old.
single.
I am Female.
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Post by Charlie Carper on Dec 18, 2015 16:38:24 GMT
Charlie’s eyes flicked from the form to Max’s face as he said ‘uh.’ Could you really say that? Her English teacher would probably say no but Charlie was used to it, she’d gone through a stage when she was about 13/14 where she did nothing but stumble over her words, unable to form a coherent sentence. “Oh, that’s pretty cool.” Charlie said with a nod, a smile gracing her lips. That was something Charlie knew she needed, a job, if she was going to get through college then she’d have to help her parents pay towards it. Fact was, Charlie just didn’t want a job, having to spend time doing things like folding clothes or polishing cutlery all for the enjoyment of others felt a tad sour and off to her.
Charlie had been about to raise her second foot when he spoke again, a piece of laughter broke out of her as she shook her head lamely. “If only it were that simple but then you get into the debate of what colour laces do I choose? Besides, they’re not exactly broken. Not much point in buying new ones just for the sake of a few more minutes of sleep.” See Charlie was the type of girl who (perhaps unfortunately) could talk for a while, just set her up on a track of conversation and away she’d go very little hesitation to who she once was. That younger version of her would be proud of how far she’d come. “So, Max, am I right in thinking you’re not from around here?” Charlie questioned, his voice had a slight accent to it that she wasn’t used to hearing. Her other lace could wait for now as she focused more of her attention back onto him.
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Human
Written by Megan.
75 posts.
21 years old.
bi bi bi.
I am Male.
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Post by Maddox Kane on Jan 1, 2016 4:57:31 GMT
A shrug. That's all he offered up to her calling him applying for a job to negate death for just a little bit longer 'cool'. He supposed being an adult and actually participating in the economic world would seem to neat to a teenager. Is she a teenager? He couldn't tell anymore. Growth hormones, or something. Great, now he sounds like his mother. Fan-freaking-tastic. Maybe he should speak. Words were required to carry on a conversation, after all. Basic skills Max generally lacked. Holding back the 'uh' that wanted to spill from his lips, he rather dragged his tongue over his lower one and asked, "Do you have a job?" His eyes fell back to his form, no longer able to linger on her own as he grew timid, "They're never much fun, but," he shrugged, not sure where he was going with that trail of thought. He'd never had any really decent experiences in a workplace. Puking kids while he was a babysitter and shady lurkers when he worked the night shift at a convenient store. Hopefully he wouldn't pour scalding hot coffee on himself- hopefully this place would be okay.
Max nodded along as if he actually understood the dilemma she was expressing. He had the same shoelaces that came with the shoes when he bought them- and that was years ago. How does one have a problem deciding on shoelaces? He almost sighed in relief when she changed the topic- bless the kid. Nodding, he looked a bit bashful as he peeked at her through his bangs, "Yeah- from New York," he didn't bother with the actual town name, just summing it up to, "Right outside the Big Apple- though you'd never guess," his eyes overtook a mischievous glint, "Worked hard not to get the accent." His lips curled into a grin, soft around the edges as he straightened out, no longer hunched as his fingers smoothed over the paper, eyes still on hers, "How about you, Charlie? You from here?" At least he could pretend to be braver, she didn't have to know this was an act.
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Out of Town
Written by Jasmin.
22 posts.
18 years old.
single.
I am Female.
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Post by Charlie Carper on Jan 14, 2016 16:58:38 GMT
From the front of the cafe someone caught Charlie's eye, a girl Charlie recognised from her English class, the girl raised a hand in greeting and Charlie could tell she was about to come over before she noticed Max, realised she was busy and left. Biting down on her lip, Charlie pushed the girl out of her mind - seriously what was her name because Charlie now felt guilty that she hadn't been able to be a friendly face for her and was most likely going to go home later and send her an apologetic message, yeah, she was that kind of girl - and focused on what Max had just asked her. "Oh, no. I don't really have time at the moment," Charlie tugged off her gloves, beginning to feel trapped by them. "You see, it's my senior year so I'm busy with college applications and studying and everything just seems to be happening so quickly, you know?" From what she could tell, Max wasn't in high school anymore so he must have been through this last year of school rush feeling, the feeling like everything was slipping out of your fingers no matter how hard you were trying.
He was from New York! Oh now Charlie was definitely much more intrigued. Charlie's dream school was there- New York Academy of Art, she'd been dreaming about stepping through its doors for years. "Yeah-no, I couldn't tell where you were from but wow, New York! What's it like?" If enthusiasm was a tangible thing right now it would be pouring off of Charlie in cold rivulets. Charlie started nodding at his question before he'd even finished, "born and raised." She told him with a smile and a small shrug of her shoulders.
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Human
Written by Megan.
75 posts.
21 years old.
bi bi bi.
I am Male.
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Post by Maddox Kane on Feb 23, 2016 1:51:39 GMT
Didn’t have time. Must be a teenager. School, he figured before she confirmed it, because really, what else could prevent her from trying to earn a steady flow of cash so she could feed herself. Or maybe that was just Max. Probably just Max, because hey, didn’t people have things called ‘families’ or whatever? He could be bitter sometimes. Scowl at innocent families, hate them for their soft smiles and boisterous laughter and careless caresses. He’d never had that. Never would. Maybe he was just jealous or maybe he was genuine upset over the mess that was his childhood when others lived in blissful ignorance to anyone and everyone beneath them. This train of thought nearly curled his lips downwards into a frown, nearly made him ask Charlie to leave him be so he could wallow while she lived out her optimistic life- but he derailed it. Put the negativity to a halt because hey, he was actually having a nice conversation with this stranger and maybe he shouldn’t go and sabotage it, idiot.
“I know,” oh look, another lie. Guess who didn’t graduate, ”Was a hectic year for me too.” Had to pack all of his belongings into a lone backpack mid-way through his last year of school, skip out of town in the middle of the night in the dead of winter because he couldn’t take it anymore. He’d been eighteen and couldn’t fathom another day under his step-father’s hand, under his body. The years in between then and now were a blur, something he didn’t want to clear up. He’d made mistakes, more than he could even swallow- think about it, his story wasn’t a pretty one..
Max squinted down at the paper in front of him, refusing to let the tears wanting to shed even push at the back of his eyes. He wasn’t going to cry. Not now, not over that. He was an adult. He’d learn to act like it at some point. Speaking of acting. Letting his eyes find hers once again through his bangs, he offered her a false smile and fed her what she wanted to hear- something so far from the truth, and well, he was good at lying, “It’s crowded, honestly, but nice depending on where you go there. I’d recommended staying away from the City,” for safety’s sake, he’d seen how dangerous it could be, “And stay further north. Real pretty up there.” Ah, a bit of truth.
His smile softened into something more genuine at her enthusiasm, something he wished he had, but then again, he wouldn’t know what to do with it- so he just asked, “What was it like growing up here?”
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Out of Town
Written by Jasmin.
22 posts.
18 years old.
single.
I am Female.
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Post by Charlie Carper on Feb 27, 2016 19:54:58 GMT
There was something going on with Max, Charlie could tell and she almost offered to go because she was wondering if she was making him uncomfortable with all the idle chit chat. A moment later though he seemed to be fine and Charlie just brushed the situation off as something else completely unrelated to her which she probably could help. Nodding along with what he was saying, Charlie was happy to hear that hey! she wasn’t alone in thinking that this year was going by like crazy and that it had happened to Max and yeah he seemed a little sad but other than that he seemed perfectly fine.
Okay maybe he was a little more than sad. Was he about to cry? See Charlie had come to notice shifts in people’s emotions when she was younger, around 7 or 8 and from then on she’d felt compelled to help as many people as she could. Maybe that was why so many people spoke to her now, because they knew she could help… that she would help. Perhaps that was why she was into something as selfish as art because she other people got to enjoy the painting or drawing once she was finished but they never knew the feeling of joy and bliss she had whilst creating it. No, that feeling was completely and utterly hers. “Oh, really? Thanks for the advice, Max.” A smile came to her face with ease, tucking the knowledge safely away knowing it would probably become helpful if she did move there. After all, that was one of the dangers she’d considered- the crime levels in a big city had to be higher than here in Beacon Hills because yeah, the town seemed a little weird sometimes but it wasn’t dangerous like that.
Hmm, growing up here, Charlie contemplated the question for a second, thinking back to when she was younger. “I guess a lot of the time it’s pretty quiet. Not much really happens although sometimes there’s like a group of people in school,” Jasper, Rose, Liam, Levi, Skylar, hell even Iris quite frankly “who seem to have exciting lives and always seem to be figuring something out. They keep to themselves a bit.” This was probably not the type of information he was interested in, he probably had enough of groups in high school from when he want to school. “It’s really nice here in the summer, it’s a great time to go to the park and stuff but there isn’t really much to do so… I guess you had to be willing to travel to find something really fun?” Trailing off, Charlie shrugged not sure what else to offer. Most people she knew had grown up here, she’d never had to discuss this kind of
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